


I Am The Wild

by aeonwrites



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, How Do I Tag, Jaskier being badass, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Multi, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, ciri aint a princess in this, he befriends monsters, i lied its kinda beta, i think???, no beta we burn like Cintra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 21,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonwrites/pseuds/aeonwrites
Summary: Years ago, Geralt meets a little boy befriending a monster.Years later, Geralt meets a bard. There's something familiar in the way he tries to keep Geralt from killing monsters."Real monsters are human", he'd always say.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 226
Kudos: 823





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I hope you like this:) pls don't be to hard on me for any mistakes, English is not my first language.  
> comments are always appreciated :)

The horse’s hooves splashed into a puddle as the witcher entered Cidaris. A city at the edge of the Continent with a supposedly huge monster problem. As usual, the specific species of the monster was unknown, but this did not disturb the witcher. The pay was good, so he had accepted the job. 

The people eyed him suspiciously, avoiding the path he was treading as his dark figure crossed through the town, the recent events earning him the name Butcher of Blaviken, had lowered a witcher’s reputation even more.

The glares did not bother him- as long as he got paid, everything was fine. He did not need anyone to like, he was just doing his job. 

His horse whinnied slightly when they stopped in front of the Royal Family’s estate. He dismounted and tied his mare to a pole.

“Stay here, Roach”, he said quietly, patting her shoulder. 

There was a commotion of voices when the witcher entered the hall. The noise died down, though, when he cleared his throat, making his presence known. 

“Geralt of Rivia!”, the Lord cried out. “We are so glad you are here! Oh, a terrible thing has happened and we are inconsolable!”

Geralt grunted, pushing his hood off his head. 

“Then I will tend to your problem immediately”, he answered, feeling all eyes in the room on him. There was a silence before the door flew open and a distressed woman entered.

“Where is my son?!”, she cried. “Where is my Julian? Where is he?” The lord approached her.

“Oh darling! You were not supposed to know, but the monster took our beautiful son”, he said softly to her. She looked at him, a strange expression that Geralt could not place crossed her eyes. 

“Witcher!”, she yelled. “Kill the monster and bring my son back!” 

The witcher hummed. “And where would your monster be?”, he asked calmly. A knight from the back of the room spoke up. “On the outskirts of the city, dear witcher, I can show you the perimeter but I will not go all the way.” Geralt nodded. “Then let’s be on our way.”

They rode in silence. The rain had ceased, yet still, the sun was hidden behind dark clouds. They stopped in front of a forest. 

"I will not go any further. The count and countess want their son back alive, or otherwise they will only pay half. Good luck, Sir witcher", the knight said, before turning around and galloping back to the city. 

"It's just you and me again, Roach", Geralt mumbled, gently urging her on. 

Once they stepped into the forest, it was dark. The few rays of light could not pierce the thick roof of leaves above their heads. Geralt jumped off his horse, quietly landing on his feet. He sniffed the air, hoping to catch a whiff of the monster.

"Basilisk", he muttered to himself. "Wait here, Roach."

On unnaturally light feet, for his strong and tall frame, he moved over the muddy ground, making no sound. As the wind picked up, another unfamiliar smell tickled his nose.  _ Human _ , ran through his mind. It had to be the count's and countess' son.  _ His name is Julian _ , Geralt reminded himself. The witcher continued his way, sword drawn, ready to attack at any moment. 

There was one thought, that would just not leave his mind.  _ Why was there no fear in the human's smell? If he really was taken by the monster, why wasn't he scared?  _

"Your breath stinks, you know that?" a young voice broke the heavy silence, and was immediately followed up with a giggle from the owner of that voice.

_ Julian, _ Geralt thought. But who was he talking to?

The witcher inched closer, careful not to make a noise. He laid down on the slight hill, crawling forward to assess the situation. What he saw baffled him, left him speechless.

A boy was sitting against a tree stump, his brown locks sticking up in every direction. His side was turned to Geralt so that he could see his rosy cheeks. And on his lap, Geralt could still not believe it, laid a basilisk's head. 

Well, not just the head. The head was still attached to the body, and the gigantic beast was behaving like a lap dog, letting the boy scratch its head and even trying to give back some of the affection. 

_ This is not going to end well, _ Geralt thought, as pleased as he was to see the boy alive and well. It was nice to see that the boy had not yet learned to think in the prejudices that everything was inherently good or bad, but cuddling a basilisk seemed like a deathwish, even for the witcher. 

Slowly, Geralt rose to his feet, the boy and the basilisk had still not sensed his presence. The witcher walked down the hill, sword steadily in front of him. 

"Boy!", he called, startling human and monsters. "Get away from there!" Geralt started to run.

The boy scrambled to his feet, jumping in front of the monster, arms held out protectively. 

He was trembling, and the smell of fear was now present in the witcher's senses, but the boy kept looking directly into Geralt's eyes.

"Please don't hurt her!", the boy cried.

Geralt looked down at the boy, seeing the tears in the big larkspur blue eyes, and, strangely, the reflection of his own yellow irises. 

The boy bit his lip, a small trickle of blood running down his chin, as the witcher raised his sword.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt meets a Bard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy :)

Geralt sat in a tavern in Posada, drinking ale and listening to a bard that was….mediocre. His performance ended rather abruptly, but the witcher didn't mind. He enjoyed the chatter of a tavern far more than any bastard bard's singing. 

He rolled his eyes when he saw the man approaching him, trying to ignore him.

"I love the way you just sit there and brood", the bard said softly. Geralt swallowed his ale and set his cup down harder than he meant to- not failing to notice the slight flinch of the man before him. 

"I'm here to drink alone", Geralt grumbled.

"Good, yeah, good", the bard stammered. "No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance. Except...for you. Come ooon, you don't wanna keep a man with", he hesitated slightly", bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less." And with those words the man sat down in front of him. Geralt was about to down his ale and leave, but there was something in those larkspur blue eyes. Maybe it was just the reflection of his own irises that he could see in them, despite the poor lighting. A memory stirred in his mind.

_ Geralt dropped the sword to the ground. The boy in front of him fell to his knees, the courage and strength holding him on his feet, leaving him. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs and the witcher now could see the slender, pointed ears sticking out of the brown curls.  _ Elven blood _ , Geralt thought.  _ That's why that human smell was so unfamiliar.  _ He dropped to the forest floor as well and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.  _

_ "I won't kill your friend", he said. "But she has to leave." The boy wiped his eyes and nodded. He hugged the basilisk as tightly as he could and whispered something that Geralt could not understand. The beast nudged the boy gently before it turned around and disappeared into the deep forest. The boy stared longingly after the monster. _

_ "Let's get you home", Geralt said, carefully pulling the child to his feet. He nodded and sighed deeply, as if accepting defeat. _

_ "She was my only friend", the boy whispered, tears pooling in his eyes again. _

_ Geralt's heart broke. _

Geralt shook his head as if to shake the memory. "Leave me alone, bard", he grumbled, getting up. The bard threw his head back and cackled, following after Geralt.

"Oh, come on. Every hero needs to be sung", the man said. "And if I'm being honest, that whole 'Butcher of Blaviken' image could use a little polishing. I know you witchers aren't like that", he said, trailing behind Geralt on his way to the stables. 

"What do you know of witchers?", he asked, not very friendly. The bard was silent for a minute.

"Enough", he simply said. "Oh, she is a beauty!", he exclaimed as his eyes fell on Roach. The mare lifted her head, looking at the two men. 

Geralt approached her, taking her reins in his hand.

"Let's go, Roach", he muttered, trying to walk away from the bard. 

The horse followed until she picked up the bard's smell. Roach stopped directly next to him. 

"Oh, hello there", he said, stroking her neck. Geralt tugged on her reins again, but the mare still wouldn't move. 

"Roach!", Geralt said sternly. She whinnied and nudged the bard.

"Hey, now. that's a liiiiittle too close", he answered, when she licked his ear and started to nibble on his hair. He gently put his hands on her neck to keep her at a slight distance, but there was a slight smile on his lips as he looked back and forth between her and Geralt. The bard sighed deeply.

"Listen to him, Roach", he said, a sad undertone in his voice. "You lot need to go."

Roach made a motion as if to shake her head. 

"Hmm…", Geralt made a frustrated noise. 

"Okay, right...I'll leave now so that you can be on your way!", the bard concluded. He walked towards Geralt to pass him on his way out of stable when Roach started moving again. She followed the bars on his way out and the witcher had no choice but to follow.

"Bardling!", he called angrily. "What the fuck did you do to my horse?!"

The bard turned around, eyes wide with surprise.

"I did not do anything, thank you very much. Your horse just likes me", he defended himself, gesturing vaguely with his hands. The ring on his finger glittered suspiciously, even though the sunlight was not hitting the metal.

Roach trotted towards him and bumped his shoulder. The bard smiled.

"Well, I guess you will just have to take me with you", he grinned.

"Hmm…", Geralt grumbled, weighing his options. "Fuck." He swung himself into the saddle and motioned the bard to move. He complied and Roach followed suit.

"Yes, I know, I know. Truly tragic", the bard chatted, again making those vague hand gestures. 

"But just know, you won't get rid of me that easily", he said. "I've made it my task to set your reputation straight!"

He smiled up at Geralt, and the witcher swore there was a familiar glint in his eyes; he just couldn't place it.

"Fuck", he mumbled to himself. 

"Don't be that way, you'll grow to like me", the bard assured.

"I will not", Geralt answered. He never got attached, never cared about anyone, just did his job. On his own. And he was not about to change for a bard with those glittering larkspur blue eyes that reflected his own yellow ones so perfectly.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt finally bothers to ask the bard's name. He wished he hadn't

Geralt had to admit he was quite impressed with the bard's patience and stamina. They had been on the road for hours, and even though he sounded slightly out of breath, he was still chatting away happily. Whenever Geralt didn't react to his questions-- which was quite often the case-- he would look to Roach. Roach always huffed and made a rumbling sound, as if to answer him and the bard would smile and continue talking.

"Can you shut it for one second, bard?", the witcher snapped eventually. He turned around, walking backwards to face Geralt. 

"Somebody has to do the talking, when you're so awfully quiet", he grinned, pointing a finger at the witcher. Then he turned around again and resumed chatting with Roach. 

"Hmm..", Geralt sighed and eyed the horizon. 

The sky was painting with gold and red; various shades of blue announcing nightfall, as the sun set above them. 

"Bard, we will stop for the night", the witcher decided. Without another word from the witcher the other man turned left into the forest so naturally, as if he had slept in the wild a thousand times.

Once they had found a suitable resting spot, Gerald dismounted Roach and gently took off her saddle and reins. He ignored the rustling and clinking noises the bard made behind his back, not wanting to know what shenanigans that goddamn man was up to. 

When Geralt turned, though, he was leaning against a tree stump, warming his hands over a crackling fire that seemed to be relatively safely set up. The witcher hummed in acknowledgment. 

He sat down on the opposite side of the fire, observing the bard.

"Your name?", he decided to ask. A chuckle sounded from the other man.

"I'm so glad you finally decided to ask!", he exclaimed, clapping his hands and stood up. He mocked a bowing motion, as if he was introducing himself to a king or queen. "Let me introduce myself as Jaskier, the humble bard, at your service!", he loudly announced, winking at Geralt. "And you, my wonderful witcher, are Geralt of Rivia! I have heard many stories about you."

"Hmmm", Geralt grunted. "Jaskier. I will travel with you to the next town, but you're on your own after that."

Jaskier sat down, pouting. 

"Oh Geralt, don't be that way. Aren't you tired of being alone?", he asked. The witcher watched him silently. The ring on the bard's finger sparkled in the soft glow of the flames and, for a heartbeat, Geralt thought he could see gracefully pointed ears under that mess of brown locks. 

"Yeah, I know you got Roach-- and she is lovely company, truly-- but you need a partner! Someone to help you!", Jaskier chatted away, and neither of them could really tell if he was being serious. The witcher rolled his eyes.

"I don't need anyone. And I sure as hell do not need an insufferable bard", he said standing up. "If you'll excuse me, I'm hungry." 

And with that Geralt walked away. "But maybe that insufferable bard needs you", he heard Jaskier whisper. He wouldn't have picked it up if it weren't for his enhanced witcher senses, but the deep sadness and defeat that shone through that sentence twisted something in Geralt's chest. Yet, he made the decision to ignore it. He didn't need anyone, and the last thing he wanted was someone needing him. He just had to get rid of that damn bard.

When Geralt returned from his short hunting trip, Jasker was still sitting by the fire. He was slowly eating a handful of berries and again having a conversation with Roach. The witcher couldn't repress the tiny grin that formed on his face. The pang of sadness that always haunted him since the day he had to rip away a boy's only friend was strangely present every time he looked at Jaskier. There was something about him-- something in the way he treated Roach like she was human, something in his eyes, in the way he talked to the witcher. 

Shaking his head, Geralt sat down again and started skinning the rabbit he had killed. 

He tried to tune out the constantly talking bard, but once it had gone quiet around them, Geralt instinctively looked up. Jaskier was still eating his berries, but the sun had completely set and the bard was staring up at the sky through the trees, a smile on his face as he watched the moon and stars. 

The witcher did a double take at his hands. He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the type of berries Jaskier was holding. They were poisonous to humans. Still, Geralt didn't say anything as another memory crossed his mind.

_ "Come on, kid", Geralt urged the boy on. He was slightly startled when the child grabbed his hand and struggled to keep up with the witcher's large stride.  _

_ "I have small legs!", he complained, but he did not sound out of breath. Geralt chuckled quietly and slowed his step to match with the child. _

_ "What's your name?", the boy asked. "I'm Julian, but I don't like that name." The witcher hummed. _

_ "My name is Geralt", he answered. "You don't like to be called Julian?" _

_ Julian shook his head. "No, I-- oh look! Berries", he exclaimed, running towards a small bush. He picked some of them and slowly started eating. "You want some?". He offered. Geralt declined, but had to smile when he saw that the most likely half-elf was remorselessly enjoying berries that were poisonous to humans.  _

_ "So, Julian", he started. "If you don't like being called that, what would you want people to call you?", he asked.  _

_ The boy smiled at him. "I'd love to be called--" _

"Oi, witcher", Jaskier interrupted his train of thought. "You gonna sit there with a half skinned rabbit all night, or are you actually going to get something done?", he cackled. Roach grumbled quietly, and it almost sound like she was laughing. 

"Hmm", Geralt hummed in annoyance and pulled the rest of fur from the rabbit with more force than necessary.

_ What was the boy's name?  _ Geralt couldn't remember. 

Even after the bard had wished him a good night and laid down to sleep, and Roach was dozing off by his side, Geralt was still thinking about the little boy. If that damn bard hasn't interrupted him, he wouldn't be having this problem now. 

_ What had been the boy's name?  _ Something in Geralt said  _ Julian, you know that. His parents called him that.  _ But that wasn't what Geralt was looking for.  _ What name had the boy chosen for himself?  _ The witcher's yellow eyes flicked towards Jaskier.  _ And why does this damn idiot keep reminding me of him? _


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is finally getting rid of Jaskier. At least that's what he thought.

Much to Geralt’s surprise the bard was up with the first light of the sun peaking through the leaves. He was glad though, this meant they could be back on the road in no time-- and the faster they reached the next town, the faster he could rid himself of the annoying bard. The witcher rolled his eyes, when he picked up on Jaskier talking to Roach again. This man’s need to socialise was truly unmatched.

“Well, come one, my dear witcher”, he said. “Let’s get going so that you can finally be alone again.” Geralt thought he heard a slightly sad undertone in that statement. Without giving it a second thought he stood up and saddled Roach-- breakfast was not necessary for him and he couldn't care any less if the bard was to starve. 

He swung himself in the saddle, intending to get ahead of Jaskier, but there still was the problem that Roach was weirdly attached to the bard and would not move; no matter what Geralt did. 

“Hm, fuck”, he mumbled under his breath, pretending not to see the smug grin on Jaskier’s face. 

“Come on, Roach!”, the bard said cheerily and walked on. Almost instantly he started his endless flow of words, but this time Geralt found his voice to be quite melodic, almost like a song. 

The sun was already high up when they could finally see a small, nameless town in the distance. 

“Civilisation, what a blessing!”, Jaskier said, throwing his arms up in triumph. “Let’s hope they got work for you, Geralt.” The witcher hummed and the bard, for once, went silent. 

The trio entered the town and were greeted by a young man stumbling in front of them. His eyes looked haunted and he was shivering.

“Witcher, oh Witcher!”, he cried, desperately clinging onto Roach’s reins. She shied away until Jaskier laid a hand on her neck, whispering gentle, soothing words. 

“What is it?”, Geralt asked. The man-- or rather the boy, really-- looked up at him. 

“I know this can’t be possible, but I know what I saw! There is a wyvern in the woods on the other side of the town! The vicious beast ate two of my friends and nearly tore me apart!”, he almost screamed, his voice highly pitched and laced with fear. He fumbled around his belt and tossed the witcher a pouch filled with coins. 

“Take them all! This is a thousand orens! Paid by the whole town! We beg you witcher, kill this monster!” And with that, the boy scrambled off and slammed the door of a nearby house shut. 

“You heard him, bard. Fuck off so that I can do my job”, Geralt said, looking at Jaskier who still held onto Roach. He nodded.

“Well Roach, you better listen to your dear witcher, or he is gonna be super grumpy with you”, he smiled at the horse. Then he patted her neck one last time and continued his way through town, whistling quietly. He walked obnoxiously nonchalant and Geralt could only shake his head at the bard’s behaviour. Pleased he noticed that Roach was not following Jaskier anymore. She whinnied quietly, as if she was sad to see him go but she stood still until Geralt gave her the command to move. He put the money into one of his saddlebags and then went on his way through the town, in search of the forest and wyvern.

“A wyvern in a forest”, he chuckled. “Oh Roach, people have an imagination.”

It wasn’t long until the witcher had found the forest in which a wyvern was supposed to be hiding. As usual, he left Roach behind by the tree line and entered into the darkness with his sword drawn. Shivers went down his back and he felt as if someone was watching him, but when he turned around, no one was there. He couldn’t smell anything that could have been a threat, so he just continued his way through the forest. Soon his nose picked up the wyvern smell. The witcher was surprised to find that the boy had been right and had not just been a vicitim to his imagination. What in Melitele’s name was a wyven doing in a place like this? He inched closer to the source of the smell, alert to all his surroundings. A growl came to his ears, amnd within seconds a wyvern was standing in front of him, baring it’s sharp, gigantic teeth and growling deeply. Geralt grinned, the familiar feeling of bloodlust taking over his mind. He attacked the beast. It fell back, dodging Geralt’s sword and charged at him. Geralt jumped to the side, escaping the wyven’s claws. He thrusted his sword at the beast, cutting its side. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow-like figure move. It came closer, and with equal amounts of wonder and horror, Geralt recognized the bard, Jaskier. He was holding something in his hands, but the witcher had no time to figure out what it was, because he had to dodge another of the wyven’s attacks. He grunted as he stepped back, a heartbeat later surging forward again to ram his sword deep into the wyven’s chest. The beast howled excruciatingly loud, and in the exact same moment Jaskier’s shadowy form had gotten closer to the scene. Geralt could see the object in his hands coming down on his head. The witcher was too surprised to react and could only voice his wonder.

“What are you doing, Jas-?”, he started to yell and then everything went black around him. 

_ “I’d love to be called Jaskier!”, the little boy smiled. Geralt hummed. _

_ “That’s a very interesting name, Jask”, he said, his heart filling with love for the boy skipping alongside him. The witcher could feel the kid’s eyes, wide with wonderment, on him. _

_ “Will you be my friend, Geralt?”, he asked, his voice laced with hope. Geralt couldn’t surpress the smile on his face. _

_ “I will always be your friend, Jaskier:” _


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monsters are a matter of definition

When Geralt regained consciousness he bolted upright, ignoring the painful ache in his head.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”, he yelled, looking around for the bard. That bastard had the incredible nerve to lean against a tree stump, twisting the ring on his finger, watching him. 

“Now, now. Easy there, Geralt”, he said, leaning forward to get a better look at the witcher. “That’s not a way to wake up after being knocked out.”

Geralt growled deeply. “Why did you do it?”

The bard feigned innocence. “What are you talking about? I saw Roach, got concerned and then found you unconscious. Nothing more, my dear witcher”, he almost sang. Geralt wanted to be angry, wanted to punch him, stab him, leave him to starve; but the knowledge that little boy he had promised his friendship to, had also been called Jaskier, sat heavy in his stomach. He felt strangely guilty for his negative feelings towards the bard. 

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you”, he said instead. The witcher heard Jaskier swallow. He stuttered when he answered. 

“No--no, I wasn’t--I could never..”, he started, but seemed to notice that he was going nowhere with this. He threw his arms up in frustration. “You would have killed her, you heartless brute!”, he yelled. And then a second later he whispered, “I am sorry, that was out of turn. You aren’t heartless.”

Geralt grunted. “Did I kill the wyvern?”, he asked and the bard nodded sadly, a choked  _ yes _ coming from him. “Hmm. Good.”

Jaskier stood up, angrily pointing his finger at him, as if he was scolding a child. “No, not good, Geralt!” Geralt shrugged. “She had no business in that forest anyway”, he said, leaning against a tree, looking up at the bard. He found it strange that a human got so worked up about a simple monster. Jaskier’s larkspur eyes were wet with tears, but he didn’t let them leak. 

“Geralt, she had children to feed”, the bard started. “After the townsfolk saw that you killed her, they went out and killed her babies. She was just trying to protect them!”

The witcher raised an unbelieving eyebrow. “By killing innocent villagers?”, he snorted. Jaskier rolled his eyes in frustration and put his head in his hands, sinking to the floor again. 

“Geralt, she was hurt. Her nest was attacked, she had a broken wing and crashed in that forest. She was just trying to heal. She initially only killed animals to feed her younglings, but then the villagers started showing up, trying to hurt her, trying to hurt her babies”, his voice became almost pleading, but to Geralt it almost sounded like he was telling a bedtime story for children. “They started attacking her and she tried to just scare them away, but game became rare, and eventually villagers wouldn’t back off anymore. So she killed them and fed them to her babies, so they wouldn’t have to starve to death”, Jaskier whispered, ending his story with a deep sigh. Geralt was almost sad, not at the story no, but at the loss of the bard’s melodic voice. When he wasn't so loud and obnoxious-- in Geralt’s eyes, at least-- his voice was quite pleasant. 

“And you killed her. You just killed her”, the bard mumbled, as if he couldn’t believe what Geralt had done. The witcher grunted. 

“How do you know all this?”, he asked, a slight hint of curiosity had been building in his chest as the bard told the story. It was hard not to think of the little Jaskier-- who’s real name had been Julian-- when the bard talked so endearingly about monsters, and how he never seemed to fear the witcher, and how Roach had reacted to him. Geralt shook his head slightly. 

“What do you think?”, Jaskier asked. “She told me of course, how else would I know all this? She was dying of her wounds. She knew the villagers were coming for her babies. I offered to stay with her but she told me to take you and run. So I did. Wyverns can be really convincing, you know?”, he said as if talking to monsters and getting to know the story of their life and circumstances was the most normal thing in the world. Geralt had to smile at the nonchalantness of the bard. 

“Yeah, of course, she told you. Most normal thing in the world”, the witcher noted sarcastically, glancing at the way the bard nervously twisted the ring on his finger. Maybe it was some kind of magical object? Now that Geralt thought about it, he seemed to notice the tiniest bit of controlled chaos radiating off the bard. He would need to check that ring.  _ See how the poet does without it, that’d be interesting _ , he thought. 

“I--I still cannot believe you just killed her like that”, Jaskier mumbled. Geralts groaned. “I killed a monster, Jaskier, it’s what I do. You know that”, he said, getting slightly annoyed. The bard shook his head. 

“No Geralt, you killed a beast not a monster”, he replied, an undertone of sadness in the statement. Geralt shrugged. “There is no difference. Beasts are monsters.”

“You’re a bit thick, aren’t you?”, Jaskier asked. “Beasts aren’t monsters.”

He stood up and went over to Roach, stroking her neck. The horse nudged him gently, wanting to give back the affection. The poet took a deep breath, and there were so many different emotions in his voice when he spoke again,that Geralt wasn’t sure what to do.

“Real monsters are those in human skin”, Jaskier said. “You, a witcher of all people, should know that.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier might be more than Geralt thought

The witcher was silent. He continued to look at Jaskier, observed the way the poet buried his face in Roach’s fur and she let him. There was defeat in his posture and Geralt didn’t know how to react.

“Aren’t you human too?”, he asked. He tried to sound sympathetic or considerate-- anything, really-- but he couldn’t tell if it worked. The bard stepped away from Roach, smiling sadly down at his feet, twisting the ring on his finger. 

“Yeah...human”, he whispered. “I’m human…” His voice trailed off, as if he didn’t want to think about it. 

Something twisted inside of Geralt. That sad, yet beautiful smile felt too damn familiar. Even though Geralt couldn’t stand the bard, he decided he would not chase him away. He owed it to Jaskier. The little one of course. A small part of the witcher was still intrigued by that damn ring on his finger, and that tiny bit of chaos that radiated off it. The witcher had a feeling there was more there. Once he got hold of that ring, that something just had to reveal itself. 

Geralt got to his feet. The ground swayed under his feet for a second, but the dizzy spell was gone as fast as it came. Sometimes being a witcher had its perks.

“Ohh Geralt!”, Jaskier exclaimed in a tone that sounded like he had just found a toddler climbing the roof. “You shouldn’t be standing up so fast!”

The witcher grunted. “I’m fine.” Jaskier rolled his eyes. "I knocked you out not even an hour ago, you are not fine!", he insisted. Geralt pushed him away, when he started fussing over him. The bard stumbled slightly, even though there hadn't been much force in the push.

"Leave me!", the witcher grunted. Jaskier nodded, again fidgeting with the golden ring on his finger. 

"Uhm...I guess, this is where we part ways?", he said. "We've made it to the next town, after all." He bit his lip, not looking at Geralt. The witcher let his gaze rest on the bard for a long time. A wave of guilt and sadness washed over him-- he had promised a boy named Jaskier his friendship many years ago, and the only way he could keep this promise was to keep this man with the same name around. 

"If you're gonna keep on talking to monsters, I better make sure you don't get killed", he mumbled, hoisting himself into Roach's saddle. "Come on, bard", he ordered and Roach started to move. Geralt could practically feel the rays of happiness radiating off Jaskier.

"Oh! I promise I'll be the best travel companion you ever had!", he exclaimed, quickly catching up to Geralt and Roach. "Well, seeing as I am most likely your first travel companion, that might not be much of an accomplishment, but it is still a promise!", Jaskier rambled on. 

"Shut up, bard", Geralt grunted and rolled his eyes. 

"Yes, yes of course. I'll be quiet as a mouse! I'll be your silent bard!", he chatted away. The witcher smiled inwardly at the excited rambling. The poet's bubbling happiness created a warmth in his chest that Geralt wasn't able to place. 

"Geralt, are you sure your head feels fine?", Jaskier asked, looking up at him. "I feel just the tiniest bit guilty. Really, not to bother you, but I am a little concerned for your wonderful brain."

The witcher snorted. "We heal quickly", he answered. He heard the poet hum. "Yeah, yeah good. Good, very good. Of course, you witcher do that", he repeated to himself, looking at his feet as he walked. He turned his eyes to Geralt again. "Gods, I hope I haven't offended you. I'd be so dead, wouldn't I?", he asked and Geralt thought to hear actual concern in his voice. He side eyed the man.

"You're still alive, so no offense taken", he tried to calm Jaskier. "It...it was a good hit." Geralt had to give him that. Not everyone managed to knock out a witcher in one strike. A hit like that took some serious force. Maybe the poet wasn't as weak and helpless as he had thought. 

"Well, thank you!", Jaskier smiled and it seemed to be the end of the conversation. 

Geralt looked at the bard-- a real look, not just skimming him over. A look as if he was trying to estimate the power and skill of an enemy. A quick but analysing look. 

Jaskier was tall, Geralt hated to admit it, but the poet was roughly his height. He wasn't necessarily muscular, yet he didn't look weak-- the build and posture of a young man in the prime of his years. The blue he was wearing would help him blend in with the trees at night, Geralt noted.  _ And the colour perfectly matched his eyes.  _ The witcher blinked-- not a thought he usually had. There was just something about the bard's eyes that didn't seem right-- they were just a touch too mesmerizing. 

Geralt noticed how Jaskier was again fidgeting his ring. It felt to the witcher as if he was looking through some kind of fog or a cloud. Something just wasn't quite right.

The bard accidentally almost slipped the ring of his finger, while he was quietly talking to Roach. 

Geralt swore he saw pointed ears and something that almost looked like horns. It was as if he saw the bard clearly. But then the ring slipped back on his finger, and the haze returned and everything looked normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading and commenting! it means so much and literally makes my day! thank you!:)


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of them fight. Geralt regrets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all agree that Geralt has half a braincell at most?

_ The little boy reached his hand out for Geralt to hold as they walked, and the witcher gently took it. Jaskier smiled at him; Geralt could almost feel the happiness radiating off him.  _

_ "No!! Give Roach a break and walk with me!", Jaskier exclaimed when Geralt reached for her reins and made a motion to get in the saddle. The witcher stopped dead in his tracks, slowly turning towards the boy.  _

_ "How do you know her name?", he asked with wonder. Jaskier shrugged. "I don't know. It was just there. But she wants a break." Geralt let out a laugh, one hand holding the boy, the other guiding Roach by her reins.  _

_ "So, Jaskier, did that basilisk really kidnap you?", he asked, remembering how he did not smell any trace of fear in the boy. Jaskier shrugged. _

_ "No, I asked her to take me away", he mumbled, involuntarily tightening his small hand around Geralt's fingers.  _

_ "And why would you do that?", the witcher asked softly. He silently noted the slight change of smell in the boy.  _ Now _ there was a hint of fear underneath all those other smells that mingled with the ever prominent human scent.  _

_ "I don't like it at home", Jaskier mumbled. "People are mean." _

_ Geralt looked at him with sympathy in his yellow eyes. "Don't worry, little one. One day you're gonna be big and strong and people won't bother you anymore", he said, ruffling Jaskier's hair. His hand brushed over something that felt like tiny horns underneath the boy's brown locks. The witcher almost pulled his hand back in shock, but controlled himself in the last second. Jaskier turned his head to look at him. _

_ "Just like you are?", he asked. He smiled hopefully, revealing tiny sharp fangs that scraped his lips, almost causing them to bleed.  _

_ Geralt smiled back, trying to hide the sadness that bloomed in his heart. "Just like me, Jask. Maybe even stronger." _

_ He could understand why people were mean to the boy. _

"So, this is what you do?", Jaskier asked, walking backwards to face Geralt. He was sure on his feet, never looking behind him and yet still keeping the tempo. "You travel the world and kill beasts that people believe to be monsters?"

Geralt swore he could hear a note of bitterness in his voice, yet again he chose to ignore it. "It's what I was born to do", he answered simply. 

Jaskier chuckled sarcastically. "Yeah and I was totally born to be a bard", he retorted. "See, my dear witcher, we don't always have to do what people expect of us." He turned his back to Geralt again.

Geralt did not answer. Some things the poet said confused him. He had always thought humans, especially those lying bards, were quite short of wit. Jaskier was proving him wrong-- clearly-- although Geralt refused to admit it.

"We're on our way to Gulera", the witcher said after a long silence, in which even Jaskier had not spoken to Roach. Geralt could practically feel the bard's confusion. "And what exactly are we doing in that shit hole of town?", he asked. Geralt couldn't even be mad at him. Gulera wasn't exactly pretty. 

"An old friend is hiding there. She was very sick the last time I saw her", he explained as shortly as he could. Jaskier hummed in understanding. Geralt was still not used to the fact that this mere human could walk at this speed for so long without breaking a sweat. Maybe what Geralt thought about humans, and bards in particular, wasn't so true. 

"She has a child, doesn't she?", Jaskier asked out of the blue. The witcher almost choked on thin air. 

"She does", he said, keeping himself together. "How do you know?" The poet shrugged, turning back around so that he looked at Geralt. "Roach", he answered, pointing at the mare. As if in response she whinnied and shook her mane. 

"What is her name?", Jaskier asked, genuinely curious. Geralt sighed deeply. "Ciri. And now shut your mouth, bard. Silence is golden."

The poet almost twirled around again, throwing his head back with laughter. "Yeah no, I don't really go in for that", he said. The witcher gumbled angrily. "Shut it, bard! Or you can walk your sorry ass right back to Posada", he yelled.

Jaskier flinched hard and stopped abruptly. Roach copied him, and Geralt-- unprepared for the sudden stop-- jerked forward slightly, almost falling off his horse. The bard faced the witcher again, looking up at him. It was Geralt's turn to flinch. The utter hurt and betrayal in Jaskier's eyes let the knife of guilt twist in Geralt's heart. 

"You don't mean that…", Jaskier whispered and his voice was so damn vulnerable that it was painful.

And suddenly the bard was gone and a small boy stood in front of Roach looking up at him, his eyes swimming with tears. Geralt's eyes widened in shock and he shook his head. The poet was standing in front of him again, fiddling nervously with his golden ring. The witcher sighed.

"Please tell me you don't mean that", Jaskier pleaded. "I don't want to be alone again", he whispered so quietly that Geralt's enhanced ears barely picked it up. 

"You're right. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry", he sighed. 

"Does that mean I am still allowed to travel with you?", Jaskier hesitantly asked. Geralt nodded. "Let's go to Gulera. Together", he confirmed. He felt a strange attachment to the bard, and the thought of him actually going back to Posada….hurt?

Jaskier smiled at him-- it seemed forced but Geralt didn't say anything-- and started walking again. 

The silence in which they travelled felt foreign. It was wrong, and Geralt swore to himself he wouldn't ask the bard to go against his bubbly nature ever again.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is still suspicious about Jaskier's ring

Night was falling and Jaskier still hadn’t said a word. Geralt had only instructed the bard to help him set up the camp and to start a fire while he was hunting, and that had been the end of the conversation. The two of them were sitting around the crackling fire; Geralt eating the bird he had killed, while Jaskier, again, was content with some berries. The only sounds around them were the howling of the wind, the rustling of leaves and the occasional squawk of a vulture. This seemingly unbreakable, yet fragile silence, was unbearable to the witcher. He shattered it like glass. 

“Damn it, Jaskier!”, he yelled, frustration evident in his voice. “Just say _ something _ !”

Geralt immediately regretted his outburst when he saw the poet flinch. He looked up at the witcher, his skin glowing etherally in the gentle light of the flame, and took a deep breath. 

“I’m….I’m sorry”, he said. His voice was so light it seemed far, far away from the camp. “I don’t really respond well to being yelled at", he explained. “It’s childish, I know, I know.” Jaskier started fidgeting with his ring again. Geralt was painfully aware of the way the fire reflected off the metal. It’s golden surface barely contained the flames, as it could barely contain the chaos it was supposed to control.  _ Supposed to hide, _ mumbled a voice in the back of Geralt’s mind. 

“No, Jaskier. I shouldn’t have said that and I am sorry”, he said, leaning forward slightly. The bard cracked a smile. “Thank you. Means a lot, really.” He stopped fidgeting and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry I’m such an insufferable bastard”, he laughed. 

It was lighthearted, meant to brighten the mood, but Geralt felt a wave of guilt wash over him. 

“You’re not  _ that _ insufferable”, the witcher said quietly. It had not even been two days, but Geralt felt a strange attachment forming. He didn’t quite understand it, he didn’t want to. There was no place in his life for attachments, friendship, family. He still had to get rid of Jaskier somehow-- if only he could bring himself to break the promise he made to a child that was probably long dead by now. Oh, and there still was the issue with the ring.

“Goodnight, Geralt”, Jaskier said softly, laying down on his bedroll, his back turned to the fire. 

Geralt waited until the poet's breathing evened out and his heart rate had slowed. Quietly he stood up and walked around the fire. He was careful not to make any noise while he moved, lest he woke Jaskier. The witcher slowly crouched down in front of the bard and for a heartbeat he didn’t move-- just took in Jaskier’s face. The man looked calm, his skin soft and smooth with a faint glow to it that Geralt had earlier blamed on the fire. Now he realised it couldn’t have been the flames. The slight glow radiated something supernatural and the witcher had to resist the sudden and unfamliar urge to reach out and run his fingers over the poet’s cheek. Geralt did reach out though. Not to caress Jaskier’s face, but to get a hold of the ring on his right hand that laid peacefully beside his head. He carefully, oh so carefully, touched the bard’s hand-- the skin was as smooth as it seemed, Geralt noted-- and the world stilled for a second. 

But then Geralt didn’t feel Jaskier’s hand anymore, instead there was now the same hand pulling on his collar, the point of a dagger very close to his eye and Jaskier’s hot breath on his face. 

“Touch me again and I will take your eye out!”, he breathed. His voice was somewhere between threatening and fearful, a wild spark in his eyes. 

“Calm down, Jaskier!”, Geralt almost yelled in shock. “It’s just me”, he added softly and took the bard’s wrist, guiding the dagger away from his eye.

The wildness and tension faded from Jaskier’s body and he let the weapon fall. He took a deep breath and sat back on his heels. 

“I’m so sorry, Geralt. You just startled me”, he apologised, refusing to look at the witcher. Geralt couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. 

“It’s good to be alert at all times”, he said. “Didn’t even know you had a weapon.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Stole it from some noble douchebag.” The faintest of smiles pulled the corners of his mouth up before he turned to Geralt again. 

“What even were you doing here? I felt someone-- probably you-- touch my hand”, he asked, quizzically raising an eyebrow. 

Geralt sighed deeply. He couldn’t tell him the truth, could he? 

“Your breathing…”, he started, not really knowing where he was going with this. Jaskier was still looking at him, expecting an answer. “It...it got really slow and had me worried for a second”, the witcher finished. “But I see, you’re more than alive.” 

Both of them had to laugh at that. 

“Well, it is very kind of you to worry. Although I do have to say that it is very strange that you can hear my breathing. I will have to get used to that”, Jaskier said. Geralt nodded. 

“You should sleep some more”, he told the bard. Jaskier looked up at the sky and shook his head. 

“Sun’s coming up soon”, he mumbled. “We should probably get back on the road.” He stood, stretching his limbs out. “If I can keep a fast pace on foot, we can be in Gulera by midnight”, he explained to Geralt. The witcher hummed and stood as well and skimmed the bard over once again. Roach could most likely carry the two of them, Geralt thought. But first he wanted to see just how durable the bard really was. 


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier are on the road again! 
> 
> Jaskier sings

They were out of the forest and on the road again. Neither of them was talking, but this time Jaskier was humming a song, only occasionally singing the words. Geralt felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was definitely better than the tense silence the day before. Jaskier was setting a quick pace and Roach eagerly followed. The sun was slowly climbing over the mountains, turning the sky into a million shades of red. 

They hadn’t met any other travellers since they left Posada, but the higher the sun rose, the more people passed them or came from the opposite direction. Multiple times Jaskier had to dodge an oxcart almost running him over or jump away from a horse galloping over the path. Yet, he was not slowing down and still in high spirits, but Geralt got increasingly concerned. Not only for the bard’s health, but he feared that Jaskier’s sudden movements would spook Roach. At least that’s what he told himself. Deep down he knew, the poet could never freak Roach out. He shook his head and sighed. 

The sun stood high above them now, beating down without mercy. It was a nice change of pace after the last rainy days, but the sudden heat was exhausting. 

“Jaskier!”, Geralt called, riding up to the bard, who had turned around in surprise. 

“Come on”, the witcher said, holding his hand out to the other man. Jaskier’s blue eyes blinked up at him, confusion clear as day in them. Geralt rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

He made a motion, as if to tell Jaskier  _ Come on, get on the horse. Don’t make me say it.  _ The bard seemed to understand. He took Geralt’s hand and the witcher yanked him up. He was surprised how smoothly the Jaskier slid into the saddle behind him, and how little space he was using up for himself. Even Roach didn’t protest the extra weight on her back. 

“Thank you”, Jaskier mumbled quietly.

“Don’t”, Geralt warned him, although he couldn’t help the smile sneaking onto his face. This bard made him smile an awful lot, the witcher noted. 

It was silent for a while, just the chatter of the other travellers between them, but then Jaskier started to quietly sing a song. Geralt had heard many songs in his lifetime, but this wasn’t he knew.

“What is that song?”, he asked, turning his head to the side so that he could hear better. 

“Oh, it’s...it’s just a song I wrote”, the bard stammered. “I can stop if you want me to.”

Geralt hummed. “Keep singing, bard. Just keep singing.”

Jaskier started his tune again, a little louder this time-- more confident, and Geralt could actually make out the words. They didn’t make too much sense to him-- they were metaphors and all and Geralt wasn’t a poet and, most importantly, he didn’t know Jaskier that well. 

After he finished his song, he jumped into a happier tune, singing even louder and with even more confidence. Some travellers sang a few words with him, others simply smiled up at him.

A family on an oxcart approached them, joining in on the tune when they got close enough to hear. Their grim faces filled with laughter and the woman on the oxcart threw a few coins to Jaskier, who caugh them in his hands. He bowed his head in thanks as he continued singing.

“For your services, bard”, the woman yelled after them. “Thank you for bringing joy to this journey!” She smiled at him as they passed each other and the family passed down the road singing. 

Geralt had to say, he was amazed at how much joy a voice and a simple song could bring people. There was just something in Jaskier’s voice. An undertone like tiny bells chiming. Something, dare he say, magical? It had to be because the witcher was in a good mood. He felt the warmth of happiness deep down in his heart and the smile grazing his lips was hard to hide when he could practically hear the grin in Jaskier’s voice. Geralt was surprised to find that he had no issue with the bard’s loud singing. Normally he would’ve wished for some silence, some peace and quiet, but seeing the happy faces and hearing the cheery voices of travellers made it all okay. 

Just as the sun was almost completely gone and the moon began to rise, the road was empty again. Jaskier’s loud and energetic songs had faded back to quiet melancholy and almost heartwrenching songs about love and the wild. A last note faded out and it was silent again, just the sounds of the nearby forest were heard. 

“Hey, Geralt”, Jaskier said. “Let’s give Roach a break and walk for a while.” 

The witcher’s breath hitched slightly. Wasn’t that what the little boy had told him all those years ago? Yeah, it was. And so, he couldn’t refuse. 

They stopped and got off Roach’s back. Geralt held her reins in hand as they walked along the dusty part. The rain most likely hadn’t reached the road. 

He glanced over at Jaskier. The poet was walking on sure feet, but his eyes were not on the road. He looked up at the stars and the moon, fascination glazing over his eyes. 

“I like the stars”, he mumbled more to himself than anything else.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”, he asked. He really wanted to know more about the bard. For safety reasons, of course. 

“I like to imagine that I can just fly up there”, Jaskier said. “Fly up there and be free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait y'all! Online school is starting again and my teachers just don't know how to chill.
> 
> anyway, if you wanna come talk to me, you can follow me on twitter @/ _feralbastard or add me on discord: feral bastard#3454


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier sings in an Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta read, im sorry for mistakes. Please enjoy!

The longing in Jaskier’s eyes made Geralt’s heart hurt. The stars illuminated the blue irises so wonderfully that, for a moment, the witcher thought that Jaskier  _ belonged _ with the stars. He wanted to say something,  _ anything _ . Maybe that he could understand what Jaskier wanted. Maybe that he could be free, travelling with Geralt.Maybe that it was ridiculous to wish for the stars. But before he could say anything, Jaskier’s attention wasn’t on the night sky anymore.

“Look!”, he exclaimed, pointing excitedly. “There’s Gulera! And it isn’t even midnight yet!” Geralt chuckled at the bard’s excitement. “We should look for an inn and get some sleep”, he suggested. Jaskier nodded and yawned as if on cue. 

It wasn’t long before they found an inn with rooms to spare and a stable for Roach. Despite the late hour, the inn was packed with people and Jaskier took this opportunity to bargain. “How about I play for your guests, and you give us free supper and breakfast?”, he asked with a cheeky grin. The innkeep, either drunk or in a good mood, laughed and nodded. “Sure!”, she said loudly. “Start playing and I’ll bring your brooding-in-the-corner-friend some stew and bread!” The bard winked at her and grabbed a lute. He could almost feel the way Geralt rolled his eyes, but the guest in the inn roared with excitement when Jaskier plucked the first notes of  _ The Fishmonger’s Daughter _ . 

As he danced around the room, he caught a glimpse of Geralt. The witcher was smiling. He was  _ smiling!  _ Jaskier knew the effect his voice could have on humans--uncontrolled that was--, but he had never known witchers were affected too. When he winked at the man Geralt only shook his head and continued to eat his stew, pretending he had never watched Jaskier’s performance. 

It took some time-- probably well after midnight-- but the guests started leaving and Jaskier set the lute aside, plopping down next to Geralt. “Well? How was my performance. I’ve been waiting for a review”, the poet said jokingly, stealing the cup of ale that Geralt was about to grab. He took a swig, leaned back on the bench and put one foot up, resting his arm over his knee as he held the cup. Geralt grunted at him, trying to reach for the ale. Jaskier pulled it away with a shake of his head. “Nuh huh. Not until you give me a review”, he said with way too much energy in his voice considering he had just performed for multiple hours. But Jaskier didn’t feel tired, he never did. Naps were just...a nice escape. Sometimes being awake wasn’t fun, he pondered.

“Better than your first one”, Geralt grumbled. The bard looked up at him, needing a moment to get back to the conversation they were having.

“What are you implying?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow. The witcher shrugged. 

“I’m not implying anything.” He reached for the ale again and Jaskier let him. He drank from it and set the cup down. “There was….something...in your voice”, he continued and Jaskier’s heart stopped. “It wasn’t there in Posada, but it started to come through on the road”, Geralt said, shrugging his broad shoulders. Jaskier forgot how to breathe. He fidgeted with his ring trying to find words. Geralt couldn’t have noticed! It was impossible! He was wearing the ring, he hadn’t taken it off and no one else had touched it! No one could have noticed!

“It’s like...tiny little bells. It’s a very subtle undertone, but it’s there”, Geralt continued. Jaskier’s mind was running. Why wasn’t the ring doing its job? What was he supposed to do if Geralt found out more? The bard planned on telling him everything eventually, but he wasn’t ready yet. It was truly a blessing that the witcher was so oblivious to most things, but he just had to pay close attention to Jaskier’s voice, didn’t he? Although Geralt wasn’t to be blamed, Jaksier told himself. It was his voice, it just  _ did that. _

The poet cleared his throat. “Is there now? I feel quite flattered by you being so invested in my wonderful voice, but, alas, I fear it is late and I am tired”, he said in a pretentious voice, hoping to take some of the attention off his singing. He should have never asked.  _ Stupid bard! _ Jaskier wanted to slap himself but he only smiled at Geralt. 

“Good night, Geralt. “ He smiled at the witcher and stood, walking to the nearby staircase to go to his room. 

Geralt had so graciously paid for two rooms and as Jaskier shut the door, he let out a heavy sigh and fell on the bed. He rubbed his face, hissing when the ring’s metal burned on his face. 

“Fuck it”, he mumbled. “Just for a few seconds.” He slowly took the golden ring off his finger. Relief coursed through his body and Jaskier wanted to cry from the intense feeling of freedom that engulfed him. Instead he looked at the spot where he had worn the ring. The skin was red, irritated, almost... _ burned _ . The poet sighed, rubbing the sore skin to soothe the irritation. He smiled sadly as his touch let the redness fade and was even more surprised at the stinging pain in his lip.

“Dammit!”, he whispered, bringing a hand up to his mouth. He felt the sharp end of the fang that had caused the damage and had to resist the sudden urge to rip it out. Jaskier shuddered and wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. The bard sat still for a moment, before he put the ring back on his finger. The familiar burn returned as the ring settled in his spot, the feelings of freedom and relief melting away. He felt caged again. He didn’t want this, he  _ never  _ wanted this. And so he laid on the bed and closed his eyes, locked away in himself, hoping that sleep would bring him at least a short escape. 


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait! but it's here so please enjoy!

Geralt tensed up when he felt a wave of uncontrolled chaos ripple through the inn. He shot up, searching for the source while his medaillon vibrated on his chest. As he neared the staircase, the chaos felt stronger and the vibrations got more violent. With one hand ready to pull out his sword at any moment, he inched up the stairs-- careful, so that he wouldn’t make any sounds. 

The witcher stopped when suddenly the wave of chaos was gone. Geralt stood at the top of the stairs, feeling for a trace the chaos must’ve left but it was so faint, the moment he moved, he lost it again. 

“Fuck”, he whispered to himself. Despite still being on edge he relaxed his posture, hoping that he would be more sensitive to the power that was still radiating in the building. He blinked a few times, and then, there it was. A faint golden string, glittering in the dim light of the candles in the hallway. Geralt strained his eyes to not lose his focus, as he started following the trace. He knew, it was a trace chaos could leave. Extremely powerful chaos. But he had only ever heard tales, never encountered it himself. His heart hammered in his chest-- it was strange, he had never felt nervous-- as the manifested chaos led him to a simple door to a simple room. The room was silent, Geralt could only hear the calm heartbeat of a sleeping person and he smelt...Jaskier?

Geralt frowned. He gently pushed the door open and held his breath. The bard stirred in his sleep, but he didn’t wake. The witcher let out a relieved sigh and tiptoed over to the sleeping man. He knelt down, yellow eyes glazing over Jaskier's pale skin and soft features. A deep warmth crept into Geralt's chest and he almost stretched out his hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from the man's forehead. Quickly he shook his head and curled his fingers into a fist to keep himself from acting upon his thoughts. 

Geralt stared at the sleeping bard, his mind racing. He should kill Jaskier. That was his job. Jaskier just  _ had  _ to be a monster. The chaos he had radiated was so uncontrolled, so powerful, so... _ wild _ . He was dangerous. To others and probably to himself. It would be a mercy to kill him. Geralt's hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

But he couldn't do it. He didn't have it in him. Jaskier looked so peaceful, so young. Geralt hung his head low and released the sword from his grip. He took a deep breath, before he did what he came to do. 

Geralt eyed Jaskier's hands. They were laid across his stomach, fingers intertwined, yet the golden ring was still glittering in the dark. The witcher reached out, gently taking hold of the bard's hands. He glanced back and forth between Jaskier's face and the ring on his finger, as he tried to carefully untangle his hands. A quiet groan escaped the poet's lips and Geralt held his breath. But he didn't open his eyes, so Geralt continued his doings. 

The bard's hands were successfully separated, when Geralt was suddenly thrown to the ground. He groaned in pain when his head hit the floor. The witcher blinked before he recognized that it was Jaskier who had thrown him to the ground. 

The bard was kneeling on top of him, breathing heavily, tightly gripping Geralt's collar. The witcher raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey, calm down. It's me", he said slowly. The bard cocked his head to the side. before he suspiciously let go of the witcher.

"I'm….sorry", he apologized and stood up. Jaskier held a hand out to Geralt and pulled him to his feet. "What were you doing here anyway?"

Geralt brushed himself off and rubbed the back of his head before he answered. "There was this…."-- Geralt wanted to lie, but nothing came to mind, so he told the truth-- "...this wave of chaos. It came from here, so I wanted to make sure you're okay", he explained. "I apologize, if I disturbed you."

Jaskier crossed his arms across his chest. "It's alright, Geralt. You just….spooked me." He shrugged. The two men stared each other down for a second before the bard awkwardly cleared his throat and turned his head away. "I guess, we should both rest a while before we go to seek out your friend, shouldn't we?", he suggested with a small smile. Geralt sighed. "Hmm..you're right", he nodded. "Breakfast at sunrise. I'll go without you if you're late", Geralt warned. Then he turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Jaskier stood there for a while, his eyes fixed on the closed door. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, sat down on the bed and hid his face in his hands. 

"Fuck…", he whispered to himself. "If he ever finds out, I'm as good as dead."


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait! i'm working on an original story parallel to this, so it kinda delayed this chapter.  
> still hope you like it :)

The sun was barely up but Geralt and Jaskier were already on the streets. The witcher had honestly not believed that Jaskier would meet him for breakfast at sunrise. But the bard was there, and he was hellbent on following Geralt everywhere. So now, they were walking through the small still empty streets of Gulera, in search of Geralt’s friend. 

“Do you actually know where you are going, or do you just walk around hoping to see a familiar face?”, Jaskier asked, looking at Geralt as they walked beside each other. He could practically feel Geralt roll his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, bard”, he answered. “I know what I am doing.” Jaskier raised an eyebrow, suppressing the grin and the snarky comment that wanted to escape. 

“Alright, witcher. I trust you”, he finally said, following Geralt’s lead.

But they had been walking for a long time now and the witcher had still not found what he was looking for. Jaskier was getting annoyed and tired. 

“Where is the problem in just  _ asking  _ someone for help?”, he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in frustration. Geralt didn’t answer, he just huffed, walking on without even looking at the bard. 

“Geralt, please”, the poet tried again, reaching a hand out to grab the witcher’s shoulder. He caught his hand, before Jaskier could touch him. “Fine”, he grumbled. “Go and ask people.” 

Jaskier smiled at him and abruptly turned around, looking for the next best person to throw a question at. It was strange. The moment Geralt had caught his hand, a name had popped up in his head.  _ Calanthe _ . He had never heard or seen this name before. 

“Excuse me, sir”, he called to a man stepping out of his stable. “Would you happen to know where I can find a woman called Calanthe?”, the bard asked. The man eyed the pair suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”, he retorted instead of answering the question he had been asked. “We’re old friends, and we would love to see little Ciri again”, he said and put on the brightest of smiles. Suddenly, the man’s gaze went from suspicious to sympathetic. He leaned against the stable wall as he shook his head at Geralt and Jaskier. The bard’s heart clenched uncomfortably. The news they were about to receive were not good. 

“I’m so sorry, but she did. A while ago, actually. Ciri is still out and kicking, waiting for some guy named Geralt”, he informed them. Jaskier felt Geralt stiffen next to him, and he had to admit, even though he had never heard of these people, the sadness was taking over his heart. Geralt would have deserved to see her one last time. He frowned.

"Oh…", he mumbled. "Do you know where we can find Ciri?"

The man nodded. "Yeh, she is most likely with the town's butcher. Was a good friend of Calanthe", he told them. 

Jaskier shot the man a charming smile. "Thank you, sir." The man smirked at him and nodded his head before he went on his way. 

The bard turned to the witcher. "Geralt, I'm so sorry", he whispered. Geralt didn't look at him. He was silent for a while, then he took a deep breath and walked on, as if nothing had happened.

"Let's go find Ciri", he called over his shoulder, as Jaskier still stood frozen in place.

"Uhm, right. Yes. Yes. Of course", he stammered as he hurried to follow Geralt's step. 

"Geralt, stop", Jaskier said, stepping out to block the witcher's way. "You can't just run around town like nothing happened after hearing that your friend just died!" The witcher stopped in front of Jaskier, remaining silent. There was an uneasy feeling spreading throughout Jaskier as he stared into yellow eyes and he started nervous playing with the ring on his finger. 

"Say something, witcher", the bard tried again, but there was no audible reaction. Geralt reached out a hand and gripped Jaskier's shoulder in an iron grip. The port tried to flinch away, hissing at the pain the intensity of the grip. Geralt dug his fingers a little into his shoulder before he let out a deep sigh and roughly shoved the bard aside. Jaskier stumbled, almost falling to the ground, catching himself just in time. His hand went up to his shoulder, as he watched Geralt walking away. 

He hated to admit it but his heart beat quicker than it should as fear ran through his entire body. He would have called out to the witcher but panic was constricting his throat and his lungs didn't fill with oxygen anymore. Jaskier shook his head, as he still massaged his shoulder. It was as if he could still feel the fingers digging into his flesh painfully. The bard wasn't even sure what he was afraid of. Was he afraid of what the witcher had done? Or was it the memories it would undeniably bring back? Jaskier couldn't say, but right now, he didn't care. He needed to make sure Geralt was okay, needed to make sure the witcher learned to cope with his emotions. And if that meant Jaskier had to be uncomfortable or even in pain then so be it. The witcher had done so much for him, it was the least he could do.

He stood there for a while, playing with the ring on his finger, before his legs started to feel useful again. He swallowed thickly and then, as fast as his feet would carry him, he ran after Geralt.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait! but school is out, so I hope i can update mire frequently. I have a plan where i'm going with this, I just need to put in words anf that's hard :'D
> 
> anyway, please enjoy

“Geralt, wait for me!”, a voice rang through the street. The witcher turned around, surprised to see the bard running toward him. He knew he had crossed a line, and no matter how much he regretted it, he was relieved that Jaskier wasn’t with him anymore. The weird feeling of affection and curiosity the man had brought to Geralt were so foreign, that the witcher was sure it would kill him some day. Of course he had felt extremely guilty when he had seen the pain in Jaskier’s eyes, but he wasn’t exactly the type to act on his feelings. And of course, Jaskier had been right when he was suggesting that Geralt wasn’t as okay with Calanthe’s death as he liked to be. 

Geralt stopped, waiting for the bard. 

“If you think you can get rid of me that easily, you’re dead wrong”, Jaskier said, crossing his arms over his chest, once he came to a stop in front of Geralt. The witcher looked away, clenching his jaw. It was strange to have someone actually care about him. He took a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry, Jaskier”, he apologised. The bard grinned at him ( _ like a little boy with elf ears _ , a voice in his head whispered) and clapped his hands excitedly. 

“Well, if you’re not going to talk about your emotion, then let’s get to finding Ciri!”, he said, walking on as if nothing had happened.

Geralt could only shake his head, but nonetheless he followed the poet. He couldn’t help to think that the bard was quick to accept his apology (or rather dismiss that anything happened at all) and he wondered how desperate the bard was to stay with him. 

It wasn’t long before they found the butcher. It was an old man, but he had a young daughter, who greeted them when they knocked on the door. She smiled brightly at Jaskier, but backed away when she saw the witcher. The bard winked playfully.

"Don't be afraid of the old man with his scary looking swords. He has a very gentle core in a very hard shell", he whispered to her, looking back at Geralt. The witcher crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow. 

"Lucrecia!", another female voice sounded from deeper inside the shop. Quick footsteps approached them and a whirlwind of golden hair entered the room. "You promised to help me braid my hair so that I can go play with the boys!", she said, not noticing the visitors. 

"Ciri", Geralt said quietly, lowering his arms. A smile crept onto his face as he saw how much she looked like her mother. Sadly, the girl never met her and now her grandmother was gone too. Geralt felt a sting where his heart was. He suddenly wished he'd checked up on the two sooner. 

"Geralt?", Ciri asked, cocking her head to the side as she looked at him. She grinned. "Geralt!", the girl exclaimed, running up to him and jumping into his arms.

The witcher grunted, hugging the girl tightly to his body. 

"I missed you, child", he said quietly. 

He put her down again, not failing to notice the grin in Jaskier's face. Ciri still smiled at him.

"Will you take me with you?", she pleaded. "Please!"

Geralt turned his head to the side, taking a deep breath. "Ciri, I don't-", he started, but the bard interrupted him.

"Of course!", he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "We would love to!"

A sigh escaped the witcher's lips and his hand curled into a fist. What was that damned singer thinking? A child? On the road? Geralt had his hands full trying to keep the bard alive (he would never admit that Jaskier was actually very capable of doing that himself) and now he would have to take care of a child too? There was no way.

"Jaskier, a word", he excused them both and grabbed the poet's shoulder to pull him out of the butcher's shop. 

Geralt was awfully aware of the tense muscles under his fingers and he was sure the bard's heartbeat was way too fast. His mind went back to just a few moments ago. He could try to deny it all his life, but the fear in Jaskier's eyes, the pleading voice-- the fact that Geralt had actually caused the other man discomfort and pain-- made him feel guilty, made him sick, it made him a bad person. 

"Are you out of your mind?!", he pressed out, desperately attempting to keep the anger out of his voice, so that he could avoid the previous situation. Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

"What did you want me to tell her, huh?", he asked. "That girl missed you so much. She  _ just _ lost the person that raised her. You're the only one left." He stabbed a finger at Geralt's chest, and the witcher opened his mouth to argue but the bard beat him to it.

"No, you don't get to argue. She is your responsibility. You do not get to abandon or neglect her." He stared Geralt straight in the eyes, a murderous expression on his face. "If I see you dismissing her, neglecting her or mistreating her in any way, shape or form I will kill you very slowly and painfully with my own two hands. Understood?", he asked in a sweet tone. He smiled at Geralt and patted his shoulder twice, before he turned his back on the witcher to enter the shop once again. 

Geralt could only stare at where the bard had stood. The words had fallen from the other man's lips so confidently and naturally that Geralt had no doubt he would keep his promise. 

He had to adjust his plan. First, he needed to find out what that damn ring was. Second, he needed to get rid of the bard. And third. he needed to find someone more fit to raise a child. He just needed to be alone again.

It would've been a lot easier, if his heart had just played along.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri joins the team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this drags on a little, but i hope it's not too boring. istg i have plot points, I just need to get there first.
> 
> still hope you enjoy :)

Geralt let out a deep sigh and shook his head in disbelief before he followed Jaskier inside again. The bard had a brotherly hand on Ciri’s shoulder and spoke to her in a gentle voice. 

“I talked to the old, grumpy man. We’re gonna take care of you, okay?”, he asked with a soft smile. Ciri’s eyes found Geralt, and she hesitated to answer, when she saw his less than happy expression. Jaskier followed her gaze, locking his cornflower blue eyes on Geralt. The murderous glimmer flashed through them, and a shiver ran down the witcher’s back.

_ I will kill you very slowly and painfully with my own two hands. Understood? _

The poet’s sweet voice echoed in his head. Geralt hummed resigned, nodding his head and forcing a smile, which he hoped seemed inviting and happy to Ciri. Geralt looked back at Jaskier to ensure he had done the right thing. The other man’s expression softened and he turned back around to face the girl. 

“See? He’d love for you to join us”, Jaskier explained cheerily. 

Finally Ciri let herself be swept away by the bard’s happy attitude. She grinned at the two men in front of her and nodded her head excitedly. 

“Go on, pack lightly and only what you need”, Geralt told her, watching as she ran off, pulling her friend behind her by the hands. 

“Are you completely insane?”, he whisper-yelled at Jaskier. “Neither of us is responsible enough to be a parent!”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed exasperated. “Do you think I’m completely stupid?”, he asked. “We’re going to visit one of  _ my  _ friends, hope they’ll hit it off and then let them be a family.” Geralt was not very convinced. 

“ _ Hope  _ that they’ll hit it off? What if they don’t?”, the witcher spoke through gritted teeth and it was nearly impossible for him to not grab the bard by his collar and throw him across the room for his lack of rational thought. Geralt took a deep breath to calm himself. “If this doesn’t work out, she is your responsibility, bard. I have no business with children.” He turned to leave, expecting Jaskier to stop him and continue the argument, but nothing happened. “Fine”, he heard him mumble and then he was out of the butcher’s shop.

He leaned back into the wall of the house, letting out a deep sigh. Every other travelcompanion would have long been gone by now, but for some reason, no matter what Geralt did-- no matter how much he tried to scare Jaskier, how much he tried to mess things up-- the poet stayed. It was annoying, Geralt was sure it was. He had been alone for so long and now he had a partner following his every step? That strange, warm feeling must be annoyance. What else would it be?

The witcher stood there for a while, deep in thought about how to feel about his new company, the child as well as the bard, when he heard a door slam shut and a child giggling in excitement. His yellow eyes looked over, seeing Jaskier and Ciri, as the man picked her up, swirled her around and sat her down again. The smiles on both their faces were so bright and honest that Geralt couldn’t help the tiny smirk that turned the corners of his mouth up. He pushed himself straight to his feet and cleared his throat to attract their attention. Hand in hand they turned to face him.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier exclaimed cheerily. “Lovely to see that you have calmed down.” The witcher could only roll his eyes in response. “Don’t make me regret it, bard.” Jaskier bowed dramatically, letting go of Ciri’s hand. “As you wish, my dear witcher”, he said. There was that theatrical tone in his voice, that he had used in that goddamn tavern in Posada, and Geralt had to fight hard to keep down the laugh that was rising in his chest. Nope, he would not encourage the poet in his ridiculous, although still funny, behaviour. 

“So, what is your foolproof plan then?”, Geralt asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Jaskier grinned at him, and Ciri followed his lead. 

“Told you. We’re gonna visit a friend. Since she’s a sorceress I will bring her some herbs from the forest. Ciri said she wants to join me”, he explained. “I’m sure someone around here could be in need of a witcher, while Ciri and I are on our quest to collect gifts for my high and mighty friend.” Jaskier paused for a moment. “Or you could just, you know, take one or two days off. Depends on how long we’re gone.” 

Geralt shook his head in disbelief. “Do you really think I’d let a bard with zero fighting skills take a child into a forest that might be riddled with monsters?”, he asked, the concern in his voice masked by anger. “I’m not risking getting your blood on my hands.”

The poet rolled his eyes, copying Geralt’s arms-crossed-in-front-of-his-chest-stance. “Beasts, Geralt, they’re beasts. Not monsters”, he said, as if he was explaining the simplest thing to a toddler. “Do you remember the time I almost took you eye out?”, he asked. Geralt grumbled quietly, shifting his weight unnerved by the fact that Jaskier was right. He didn’t answer, so Jaskier did. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…”, he whispered. “I’d say, we’re good on the fighting skills.” He reached out to pat Geralt’s shoulder affectionately, before he took a step back and took Ciri’s hand aagin. The girl had stayed quiet during the whole exchange, but she stared up at the two men in wonderment. 

“Come on, Ciri”, Jaskier spoke softly, before he turned around, pulling her gently with him as he walked away from the butcher’s shop and Geralt. Ciri complied happily, not turning around to face the witcher and his yellow eyes a second time. 

“I’ll see you in a day or two, Geralt. Do something useful with your time”, the bard said, without turning around as he grabbed the bag Ciri had been holding, and slung it over his shoulder. He did a hand motion that could have been a wave, Gerakt wasn’t sure.

He could only watch, frozen in place, as he watched the two walk off. His heart ached as he watched them go, even though they would be back in no time. He decided he did not like the feeling. 

Love was so overrated for witchers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be a little of Jaskier and Ciri bonding, bc they are both my fave feral children.  
> if you got any wishes for their bonding, you can put them in comments and I'll domy best to incorporate them :)


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of Jaskier and Ciri action. (not a lot of action tho)
> 
> the amount of comforting hugs/touches is astronomical.

Jaskier hummed a melody as he walked with Ciri. The town wasn’t large, so they reached its outskirts rather quickly. Still, noon had long passed and the sun stood low on the horizon. 

The cobblestone street the two had been walking was slowly narrowing and fading out into a dusty path with only a stone here and there remaining of the street that had once been 6there. The houses slowly made way for bushes and shrubs as the trees grew taller and closer together, fighting to keep the sunlight out. 

Ciri subconsciously grabbed Jaskier’s hand, squeezing it hardas the darkness closed in around them and the sun slowly disappeared below the line of the sky.

“Why did we come at nightfall?”, the girl asked, looking up at the man walking beside her. The bard stopped his humming and smiled mischievously. 

“There are creatures that feel more comfortable in the dark”, he replied. Ciri squeezed his hand tighter. ‘What-- what exactly are we searching for?”

Jaskier turned his eyes to the path ahead of them, there was a wildness glazing over them and his heart painfully contracted in his chest. It was as if it called to the forest, to the beasts, to the wilderness that hid within the darkness of the trees. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he had to stop dead in his tracks. The pull of freedom was almost painful. He could just run and never come back. His hand let go of Ciri and went to the ring on his little finger of his right hand. He twisted it, then curled his hands to fist, pressing them tightly against his chest. 

No, he couldn’t run. He couldn’t abandon Ciri, he couldn’t leave Geralt alone, not again. Both of them did not deserve that. 

“Are you okay?”, Ciri asked softly, as she came to halt next to the bard. Jaskier shook his head. “I’m fine”, he replied. “I just really miss home.” He smiled through his tears and quickly wiped them away, careful to use his left hand. The damn ring still hadn’t stopped burning his skin.

Ciri took a breath and sighed deeply. “Me too. I miss my grandmother. She was home”, she whispered. Jaskier put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close in some form of comforting, familiar embrace. 

“But we got each other now, Geralt you and me. We can be a family, a found one, but family nonetheless”, he said, his voice almost inaudible. “Yeah. I’d like that”, Ciri answered. 

They let go of each other, giving an encouraging smile, and then continued their way into the forest. 

“What exactly are we looking for?”, Ciri asked, feeling more and more calm in the darkness of the forest. It wasn’t a scary darkness. It was more like a warm hug, a sincere welcome, like coming back home. Jaskier inhaled the thick air deeply, a calm and happy expression on his face. 

“A very old friend”, he answered, picking a berry from a bush they were passing. He popped it in his mouth, but managed a noise of protest when Ciri tried to imitate him. Quickly, but still gently, he grabbed her hand and prevented her from eating the berry. 

“Don’t eat that!”, he said, after he had swallowed. “They’re very dangerous to humans.” 

The golden haired girl looked at him funnily. “Then why did 

eat it? You’re human too, right?”, she asked, turning her head around to look back at the bush they were leaving behind.

The bard chuckled. “Not….quite. 

is such a limiting term”, he mumbled, more to himself than answering the previous question. His fingers involuntarily started twisting the ring again. He didn’t even take notice of it until Ciri mentioned it. 

“What’s that for? It’s very beautiful”, she inquired.

Jaskier quickly turned his hands into fists to stop himself from fidgeting. Then he looked down at her and smiled. “It’s for...protection”, he explained after a careful pause. He stopped for a moment, looking at his ring. “It’s like a part of me.”

The poet shook his hand to clear his mind and continued on his way, his heart beating happily in his chest as it came home, and yet his skin felt like it wanted to rip open. The things within him longed to be released, they 

to break free. Free of the magick that kept them in check. The wild heart of the forest was calling out to him more than ever, it was longing for him to come back. Back home. 

“I...have a protection necklace”, Ciri interrupted his spiralling mind. “My mother gave it to me when I was just a baby. I never took it off.” She smiled to herself as she reached into the collar of the shirt she was wearing (let’s be honest, a dress just wasn’t the right thing for a forest adventure) and revealed a silver pentacle pendant on a leather string. Jaskier’s blue eyes fixed themselves on the symbol in awe. 

“It’s beautiful”, he whispered, resisting the urge to touch the metal. Ciri mumbled a shy thank you, before she let the necklace slide below the fabric of her shirt again, where it would be safe from the hungry eyes of robbers. 

They had been walking in silence, and the moon’s milky white light was bright enough to break through the pitchblack of the forest, when they reached a sudden clearing in the woods. 

The roof of leaves suddenly gave way to the starspangled night sky and the full moon appeared twice, Once in the sky, and once in a perfect reflection in the water of the still lake that laid before them. Giant tree trunks had fallen into the water a lifetime ago and were covered in soft moss and slimy algae. The grass seemed infinitely softer under their feet and the leaves sang the quiet song the wind composed, as it rustled through them. 

Jaskier walked out to the lake. Once he had reached it, he gently let his hand slide into the water, disturbing the perfect picture it had painted of the sky above them. He slowly dragged his hand around, drawing symbols into the water. 

Ciri didn’t dare to disturb him. She sat down on the grass--it was definitely softer-- and watched him. 

When he had pulled his hand out of the water, he seemed to be frozen in place, just staring at the ripples breaking throught the darkness of the water. He cocked his head to the side and waited a while before he stood up. 

He made his way over to Ciri, laying down next to her, sighing contently.

“And now, we wait”, he mumbled, closing his eyes with a sense of deep tranquility in his heart.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait! I'm taking my A-Levels this year, and there is a lot of preparations and studying involved. I'm also currently working on an original story, so that's why I'm taking a little more time than usual.  
> Still hope you enjoy :)

The water started splashing and Ciri shot up. She had been half asleep already.

"Jaskier! Jaskier!", She yelled excited, pointing at the lake. Her eyes glittered like polished emeralds in the sun.

The poet slowly propped himself up on his elbows, watching the dark surface of the water rise and fall with the waves.

Two red glowing dots appeared in the dark and Jaskier got to his feet, approaching the lake. Ciri followed carefully, hiding behind Jaskier. Her heart was beating rapidly and she wanted to run and scream in fear, but at the same time a burning curiosity took hold of her, forcing her closer and closer to the rippling waves. She watched as the bard carefully crouched down and flinched back when a pair of yellow eyes suddenly appeared under the surface. 

Slowly, so very slowly, a snake-like body wrought it’s way out of the water, rising higher and higher until Ciri had to crane up her neck uncomfortably to see the creature’s head. There was a moment of silence, as the beast stood still and the water became calmer again. Then, the giant beast shook its head and the portion of it’s ginormous body, shaking the water off, sending drops of water everywhere, soaking everything in its reach, as if a rain cloud had emptied its tears on the small clearing. The creature roared, a thunderous, eardrum-shattering noise-- Ciri had to cover her ears, and confusion was written on her face when she saw that Jaskier was still smiling-- as if to complete its impression of a thunderstorm. And then finally, Ciri was about to burst from sheer curiosity, the beast bent down with its dragon-like neck. Its cutting yellow eyes were face-to-face with Jaskier and for a horrible moment Ciri expected the beast to open its mouth and devour the man whole.

But nothing of the sort happened. The two looked at each other in silence, before Jaskier clasped his hands behind his back and Ciri saw the golden ring flicker for just a second. The air around the poet felt weird. It felt wrong and heavy, as if something powerful was in there trying desperately to break out. 

The feeling lasted just a heartbeat, and then the pressure lifted at once and a wave of chaos ripped through Ciri and the entire forest. Ciri felt as if time was standing still as she watched Jaskier’s figure change. She could see pointy ears peeking out from underneath his brown locks and horns had appeared on his head. One of them had a crack going from top to bottom, while the other had been completely and unevenly broken off his head. 

Ciri blinked in confusion, but no matter how many times she closed and opened her eyes, the image before her did not change again. The bard was most definitely not human. He turned his face to her and winked at her with a cheeky grin, and Ciri was able to spot sharp fangs reaching over his lips. Without giving it much thought she smiled back. As he turned back around, the creature made a breathy, throaty noise which might have been a laugh. It touched its head to Jaskier’s chest, and the bard pressed his face to the leathery skin in response. 

They stood like this for a while and Ciri did not dare to move. She wasn’t afraid anymore that Jaskier was going to get eaten by the beast, but she didn’t want to disturb the harmony between them that was so omnipresent that even she could feel it reaching through her body into her heart. 

“Can you give it to me?”, Jaskier asked, his voice as soft as a feather. Ciri had to strain her ears to be able to hear him say anything at all. There was an agreeing grumble coming from the creature and an even quitere thank you from the bard followed. 

Ciri couldn’t see what  _ it  _ was. There was no motion of goods being exchanged but eventually she heard Jaskier whisper.

“Goodbye…I’ll miss you..”, he said into the beat’s skin. A soft growl erupted from its throat and with a last, gentle bump to the bard’s chest, the beast slowly slid back into the water. Jaskier sighed deeply when the last part of the head was out of sight and water was moving in gentle ways. Ciri was still frozen in place, but slowly she became aware of her surroundings again, noticing the many birds singing their songs. She looked at the bard, standing in front of the water, as if he had lost something. Finally she could see what the beast had given him. A tooth. A long, sharp and shiny tooth. It was almost as big as the hand in which the poet was holding it securely as he stared into the depths. 

With a heavy sigh he sat down where he stood turning the tooth over in his hands, as if it was some precious and delicate treasure. Mustering all her strength, Ciri managed to move her feet. She put one in front of the other until she stodd next to the bard. There, she sat down next to him, stating four simple words.

“You are not human.”


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait an I hope y'all are doing good! But thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, I really appreciate it :)

Jaskier didn’t answer right away. His larkspur eyes were fixed on the water and he had stopped turning the tooth over in his hands. Instead, he had resorted to twisting the golden ring on his finger. Ciri looked at him expectantly, and eventually the poet heaved a sigh. 

“There’s no point in denying it now, is there?”, he asked, turning to face Ciri. She shrugged at him, trying to muster an encouraging smile. A few more moments passed in silence, Jaskier still twisting the glittering metal band. 

“I don’t know what I am”, he said quietly, averting his eyes to the ground. “I just know that I belong here.” He made a gesture, encompassing the forest they were in. “In the wild.” 

When Ciri kept quiet, he looked at her again. “Promise to keep the secret?”, the poet asked. The golden haired girl nodded enthusiastically, sitting up a little straighter in excitement. 

Jaskier was sure that she could hear his heart beating out of his chest, as he slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the ring from his finger. He felt the raw chaos break free from him as the glamour was lifted and it felt like he could finally breathe again. It was strange. He had felt like he was drowning for so long that, for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to come up for air again. His heart and soul leapt with excitement and around him it was as if the whole forest had begun to sing. He had come, at last. His energy, his chaos fit in right here. He wouldn’t have to hide anymore. It would be so easy to just stay here and never look back. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling of liberty wash over him. 

Ciri watched in wonder as the air around the bard turned blurry for just a heartbeat. She blinked to clear up her vision, and when the air was finally clear again, she gasped. Sharp fangs gave a threatening aura to Jaskier’s otherwise endearing grin, while his pointy ears gave him an elfish look. Horns emerged from his head, although one of them had been broken apart and the other had a crack. Ciri winced internally, that must’ve been painful. 

She extended a curious hand toward the poet as soon as he had closed his eyes. Green vines, some of them full of flowers and some of them with leaves or thorns, gently wrapped around his body. Ciri touched a vine and just as gently as they were wrapping around Jaskier, they started to grow around Ciri’s arm. 

Jaskier opened his eyes again, and upon seeing the green vines crawling up Ciri’s arm, he let out a hearty laugh. Ciri wasn’t sure what he was laughing about, but sheer bliss that radiated off him was contagious. She threw her head back and laughed, so heavily that tears began to build in the corners of her eyes. She felt Jaskier carefully taking her hand, as a brother might do to guide his young sister through a dark forest, and when she looked down, colourful flowers started to grow on her arms, and she could feel others intertwine themselves with her golden hair. Her eyes were transfixed on the masterpiece that was forming on their bodies and time seemed to stand still.

Neither of them had ever felt more at peace. The sharp tooth laying next to them, Geralt still in town, Roach, Calanthe’s recent death, the golden ring. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. All that was important right now were the vines and leaves and flowers sprouting around them. Ciri never wanted for this moment to end. The vines engulfing her felt like coming home, they felt like a warm hug, a kiss on the forehead, a gentle hand holding hers. But before she could bask in the feeling of Gaia welcoming her, Jaskier let go of her hand. The vines and flowers disappeared in a heartbeat.

“Someone’s coming”, he whispered, panicked, quickly putting the golden ring back on his finger. Ciri sat still, her mind still in the haze of recent events. Jaskier’s fangs were suddenly gone, the horns weren’t on his forehead anymore and his ears had lost their pointy shape. A certain sadness passed through her as she looked at the glamoured poet. 

“Jaskier! Ciri!” Geralt’s deep voice tore the silence hanging in the fresh air of the small clearing. “Are you alright?”,the witcher asked, barely masked concern lacing his voice. Ciri jumped to her feet, shocked at the sudden noise, while the bard calmly came to his feet. Geralt had his sword drawn, his hair was a little messy with one or two tiny twigs in it and his eyes were glowing yellow as he scanned the clearing for any signs of danger. 

The poet stepped towards the aggravted witcher. “Now, Geralt, we don’t need that”, he said with a husky voice, skillfully maneuvering the broadsword out of Geralt’s hand into his own. He hid the sword behind his back, putting a tentative hand on the witcher’s cheek. Yellow eyes followed his every move, but Geralt did not move to stop him as the bard leaned closer to him. “You can’t solve all your problems with violence, my dear witcher”, Jaskier whispered in his ear. He smiled at the witcher, stroking his thumb over the other man’s cheek before he stepped back. 

Jaskier swung the sword back to the front, affectionately running a hand over the blade. “Too much violence, too much blood”, he mumbled. “Geralt, when will you learn that the world’s problems don’t lie in its beasts, but in humanity? Those are the monsters you should really be after."


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're basically reliving the last chapter, but this time it's Geralt-centric, woohoo!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all so much for 10.5k hits!!!! that means so much!

Geralt had taken Jaskier’s advice to take some time off seriosuly. If he was being honest, he had started to feel strange when the bard had joined him on his travels. Now he had time to rest and figure out what was going on. 

He had taken one minor job, just chasing a goblin out of a basement, nothing special. But other than that, he had returned to the rooms in the inn and just sat there. 

He had his sword over his knee, absentmindedly cleaning it as he let his mind wonder. The bard had made him go soft. Geralt would have killed that goblin, not just simply chased him away, if it hadn’t been for Jaskier insisting that beasts were not monsters. 

That damned bastard bard. Geralt did  _ not  _ need to be attached to anyone. And now there were this very intriguing young man and a literal child under his wing. He would be lying if he said that it didn’t stress him out.He felt like he had to protect them. Even though Jaskier had proven himself to be very capable of fighting, Geralt still hated the idea of leaving him to his own devices. 

Geralt froze in his thoughts and his motions, when a wave of uncontrolled chaos hit him. It was wild in nature, an ancient entity, almost as if it had a mind of it’s own. Gerat had never felt anything quite like it. In a way, it felt peaceful, like a warm hug, like coming home. But the witcher knew not to trust such illusions and so, in a heartbeat he was on his feet, sword strapped securely to his back and raced down the stairs. The eyes of the innkeep anmd a few guests followed him curiously, as he stormed through the tavern, but no one dared to stop him and ask where he was headed. 

The witcher did not even bother to take his most trusted companion, Roach, with him. She deserved a break and, on the other hand, Geralt deemed it too dangerous for her to be brought so close to such an ancirnt form of magick. 

He ran as fast as he could, his heart pumping at record speed. Twigs snapped into his face and got caught in his hair as he sprinted through the forest, following the trace of raw chaos. 

The urge to just let it overwhelm him, welcome him home got stronger with every inch that he moved forward, but Geralt was a witcher and he knew how to resist. Geralt pulled the sword from his back as he ran, ready for whatever monster he was about to face.

But just as he burst through the last line of trees that separated him from the foe, the chaos suddenly faded. It left a bitter aftertaste in the air, as if you had a crushing argument with a friend and parted on bad terms, and Geralt was standing perplexed, sword ready to strike but frozen in the motion.

On the small clearing he had just reached, he could only see Ciri and Jaskier. 

“Jaskier! Ciri!”, Geralt’s dep voice tore through the silence of the woods. “Are you alright?”, he asked, barley masking his concern, as his heart was still pumping way too fast. If it was because of his physical effort or his nervousness, he couldn’t tell. Ciri jumped to her feet, her face in shock at the sudden noise, while Jaskier calmly got to his feet and approached Geralt. The witcher still had his sword out, not trusting the peace as he scanned the clearing for any dangers. Jaskier stepped toward him, and Geralt had to stop himself from reeling back. That man was way too comfortable with physical touch, but maybe that just came with being bard, Geralt pondered for a heartbeat before he diverted his attention back to Jaskier. 

“Now, Geralt, we don’t need that”, the poet said in a husky voic, maneuvering the witcher’s braodsword into his own hands. Geralt was annoyed and impressed at the same time. That sword was heavy, and somehow, there was a little special something in the way Jaskier handld the weapon. However, the witchr did not move a muscle, watching the bard intensly. The man hid the sword behind his back and put a gentle hand on Geralt’s cheek, who could just barely suppress a grunt. The witcher shivered, as the bard leaned in even closer and whispered into his ears. “You can’t solve all your problems with violence, my dear witcher”, he said, moving back as his thumb stroked Geralt’s cheek before he stepped away. 

The bard swung the sword out from his back and stroked the blade affectionatly. The witcher watched him closely, fear rumbling in his stomach as he waited for the moment in which the bard would inevitably cut himslf on the sharp blade. But that moment never came. “Too much violence, too much blood”, he mumbled. “Geralt, when will you learn that the world’s problems don’t lie in its beasts, but in humanity? Those are the monsters you should really be after”, the bard said quietly. His larkspur eyes looked directly into Geralt’s yellow irises. The witcher was frozen. He couldn’t see anything but the small boy, who had befriended a basilik all those years ago. Back then, Geralt did not have the guts to kill the beast, and he still regretted that he killed that wyvern (mainly because Jaskier had cried, and he did have a really good point). The witcher could not stand looking at the other man any longer, and without saying a word, he averted his eyes. His attention was now focused on a shiny, sharp thing that was laying in the grass.

“Jaskier...Is that a basilisk tooth?”


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey my wonderful people. real quick before the chapter starts, i've been thinking about publishing a vikings fanfiction? so if anyone likes vikings and wants to read h/c angsty fluffy modern au, then let me :)   
> and now have fun with this!

Jaskier slowly turned to follow Geralt’s gaze. 

“Why yes, Geralt. It is”, he replied, faking a smirk. His heart was beating way too fast. He had not meant for Geralt to see the basilisk tooth, or even to come to this clearing. Geralt raised a questioning eyebrow, as Ciri slowly came out of her stupor. 

“It’s a gift”, she exclaimed, raising the fang above her head, as she ran over to the two men. Jaskier watched the little girl with a smile and gently took the tooth from her hand when she arrived. 

“It is for the friend we are visiting”, the poet said, waving the tooth in front of Geralt. The witcher just sighed and shook his head.

“Sword”, he demanded, holding out his hand. Jaskier bowed and obliged, handing the broadsword over to Geralt. 

Jaskier did a turn, scanning the area with his eyes. “Where’s Roach?”, he asked. 

“At the tavern”, Geralt grumbled. “Felt the chaos, ran here, found you”, he reiterated the events that occurred earlier. A warm feeling spread throughout Jaskier’s chest. There was something wonderful about knowing that Geralt did have a soft spot for him and Ciri despite the coldness he was so prone to showing. 

“Aw, you were worried about us”, Jaskier cooed, stepping even closer to Geralt. The man rolled his eyes.

“Fuck off, bard”, he grumbled. The poet threw his head back and laughed, and even Ciri had to giggle, while Geralt looked away from the both of them. Jaskier swore that if it wasn’t for Geralt’s general... _ witcherness _ …he probably would have blushed. 

He threw a casual arm around Geralt and put his other hand on Ciri’s shoulder.

“Well, then”, he said cheerily. “Let’s get Roach and then we are off to Vengerberg!” 

The witcher reeled back as if someone had tied him to the ground with chains. “Are you looking to see Yennefer of Vengerberg?”, he asked, his voice low and dangerous. Jaskier’s heart jumped, but not in the happy way it had been before, no, this was a very unpleasant sensation and he hated that Geralt was making him feel like this.

“Yes, is that a problem?”, he asked nonchalantly, as if everything was okay inside him. He had taken his arm off Geralt, and tried hard not to dig his fingers into Ciri’s shoulders as the witcher stared him down with his menacing yellow eyes. They stayed like that for a while. No one dared to move. No one dared to make sound. Not until Geralt huffed and averted his eyes.

“We were...involved with each other”, he said quietly. Jaskier opened his mouth to say something, but decided to stay quiet instead.

“We need to talk anyway, let’s go”, Geralt said firmly. Now, the witcher had his arm around Jaskier’s shoulder and started guiding him and Ciri through the forest, back the way he had come. 

The poet did not dare to question the witcher, and the three of them walked back in silence. Ciri had taken Jaskier’s hand, who sometimes smiled down at her and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

They had reached the outskirts of the town when Geralt suddenly stopped. The witcher took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I apologize, Jaskier”, he said firmly, not looking at the other man. The bard stared at him with wide eyes, not really knowing what to say.

“I..Geralt, there is nothing to apologize for”, he answered, his voice quiet and unsure. He was confused. In a good way, but he still did not like it. It just added to the unreadableness of Geralt.

“Yes, there is. I was rude to you more than once, and I apologize”, the witcher retorted, his eyes flickering down to Jaskier’s and Ciri’s hands locked together.

“We are travel companions, at least for now. We should get along”, Geralt continued, and Jaskier could only nod.

“Yeah, yeah! Of course. Sure. Thank you”, he stuttered.

And just like that, the conversation was done and the witcher continued his way into town. Jaskier and Ciri stood there for a second, Jaskier still aghast and Ciri unsure who to follow, but when Jaskier finally moved to hurry after Geralt, the blonde girl followed suit. 

As they once again walked side by side, the bard wondered when Geralt would ask him about the basilisk fang he was still firmly holding in his hand. He could feel Geralt’s yellow eyes flicker down to the sharp tooth as they walked, but the witcher remained quiet, seemingly unsure as to whether his question would disturb the fragile peace they had just established. 

Jaskier sighed quietly, wondering if Geralt still remembered. Even though the bard had not been a bard back then, and he tried to forget most of what happened, he still did remember. A rare, happy memory. 

A basilisk, a horse, a witcher, and now a barely teenage girl. What an odd group of companions he had acquired. 

Ciri and Geralt eyed him suspiciously, as he giggled quietly at the thought, but again no one said a word about his behaviour.

“Hide the tooth, Jaskier”, the witcher grumbled, as they approached the road leading to the inn they were staying at. The bard hummed, sliding the fang up his sleeve and crossing his arms behind his back.

As they walked throughout the small crowd of people on the streets, he could see how Geralt’s eyes skimmed the area, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword, as if daring the townsfolk to whisper about the tooth, the fact that there was a witcher in town, anything, really.

Jaskier smiled down at Ciri, sighing in satisfaction

“How lovely it is to have a big, bad witcher to protect us”, he said to her. The girl's eyes wandered towards Geralt’s hand touching the sword, and she nodded hesitantly.

“You know what”, Jaskier whispered playfully, leaning down as they walked so that Ciri would hear him better. “I think he isn’t as big and bad as he would like to be. Our dear witcher is an absolute sweetheart”, he grinned and Ciri giggled quietly.


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are moving towards some drama, not a lot of drama here, but in the next chapter :)

They had made it to the stable without any trouble. While Jaskier was up in their rooms, Ciri and Geralt had stayed with Roach. The girl watched with interest as Geralt harnessed Roach. 

“She’s pretty”, Ciri noted, holding a hand out so that the mare could get used to her smell. Roach sniffed around for a while, before she playfully nibbled on Ciri’s fingers. Geralt chuckled quietly and patted the horse on the neck. 

The peaceful silence between them was disturbed when a singing voice approached the stables. Ciri and Geralt rolled their eyes in unison.  _ Jaskier.  _

“ _ But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss” _ , Jaskier’s voice carried throughout the stables as he neared them. Geralt once more had the feeling that there was something….supernatural in his voice. The tiniest trace of chaos, just barely there. 

His train of thought, however, was interrupted by the man in question barging into the stables. 

“Well then, my esteemed companions!”, the bard exclaimed. “Saddle your horse, tie your laces, and fasten your belts! We’re going on an adventure to see the great Yennefer of Vengerberg!”, he announced, dropping a load of weapons into Geralt’s arms. The witcher huffed in annoyance, but he did not complain, the peace between them still too fragile.

It did not take long for Jaskier and Geralt to divide their luggage between themselves and Roach. They gave Ciri a lighter bag to carry and the witcher lifted her into Roach’s saddle so that she would not have to walk all the way to Vengerberg. 

It was not a very long way, maybe a five day march, as the townsfolk had told them, but after the third day the rain was pouring down on them and the quartett struggled through the mud. 

“Jaskier!”, Geralt called over the heavy rain. “Let’s stop and build a shelter!” Thunder cracked as he finished his sentence and Jaskier raised his face into the sky, taking in the clouds. The witcher watched in fascination as the raindrops cascaded down the bards face, dripping off the tip of his nose, running down his neck and into his shirt. A weird sensation arose in Geralt and with horror he realised that he found the man  _ attractive _ . It was less the fact that Jaskier was a man, rather Geralt was horrified that he was capable of this line of thought at all.

“It might be a good idea!”, Jaskier called back to him, turning to look Geralt in the eye. His brain raced to process the words the poet had just said, as lightning struck, reflecting for just a heartbeat too long in the bard's larkspur blue eyes. Confused, Geralt shook his head to clear his thoughts. Then he took hold of Roach’s reins and led her off the muddy path into the forest.

The rain was lighter underneath the roof of leaves, almost a gentle tapping like that of tiny little feet running over a marble floor. The group was soaking wet as they walked deeper into the forest, thankful for Gaia’s protective hands over their heads. Roach’s hooves did not get stuck to the ground anymore, still Ciri had dismounted the horse and was now walking beside Jaskier, occasionally looking back and forth between the two men. Jaskier’s secret was trying to claw its way out of her brain into her mouth, she wanted to scream it into the forest so that all the world would know. She missed the comforting presence of the chaos that was contained within the bard, it made her feel at home, unified with mother nature. The whole continent, even Nilfgaard, deserved to know, deserved to feel this raw power. 

Abruptly her thoughts ended as a cold raindrop fell into the back of her shirt. Ciri shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut to compensate for the unpleasant sensation.

“We’ll build our camp here”, Geralt announced once they had reached a fairly dry location. Neither of them could tell if the rain had stopped. The wind was still rustling the leaves, the rain still falling through them, sometimes in a quiet whisper as they splashed on the ground and sometimes with a mighty roar when the wind had gathered a small army of droplets to soar through the air. 

Ciri and Jaskier put themselves to work by unloading their belongings, taking the reins off Roach so that she could roam free. The witcher had taken off. Hunting and gathering wood, he had said. So, the two that were left behind started to set up a place for the fire, covering selected spaces around the firepit with mostly dry leaves so that they could lay their bedding down and not get soaking wet in their sleep.

Geralt had not lied. He was hunting. He wanted meat, and he was sure that Ciri would be hungry too. He still had not figured out Jaskier’s issues with eating the animals he brought, but he told himself that it was not his problem. The hunt was easy, the traces of wild animals easily visible in the moist ground, and the sound of dripping leaves masked Geralt’s nearly silent movements. When he saw the branches of a bush shaking, he did not hesitate to throw his daggers, and emerging from his hiding spot he could see that he had successfully caught two rabbits for their dinner. Ciri would be delighted. As he bent down to pick the animals up, he noticed the berries growing on the bush. White as snow with charcoal black specks. The witcher hesitated. Jaskier had just accepted his peace offer, he did not want to break that trust. But on the other hand, the desire to know Jaskier’s true identity burned with a flame he could not ignore. Geralt clenched his fist, breathing deeply as he made his choice. He reached out, grabbing a handful of the berries and pocketed them.

He had never known a living being that could resist the effects of these sleep inducing berries. 


	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the drama begins, babey!!!
> 
> thank you SO MUCH for more than 12k hits!!! that's so crazy!!!

Geralt was always still surprised to see how these berries changed their colour. Seemingly at random they took on the look of a different sort of fruit, nothing reminding the consumer of its prior nature. 

Once he got back to the make-shift camp, he was happy to see that a fire had been lit. “We made fire!”, Ciri announced proudly, evoking a barely contained cackle from Jaskier. 

“Well done”, the witcher nodded in approval, trying to make his deep voice sound affectionate. He made a motion at the bard to catch his attention and, once Jaskier was facing him, threw the little pouch he had filled with berries at him. The bard caught it skillfully in one hand, a surprised yet pleased expression on his face.

“Why, thank you, my dearest witcher”, he said, genuine gratitude evident in his voice. Geralt hummed in response and sat down to prepare the rabbits for him and Ciri. The witcher had to admit, he was sure the girl would be disgusted, but in the end, he found himself teaching Ciri how to prepare a rabbit to cook it over the fire. She was an extremely fast learner and soon they were able to finally eat a, more or less, full meal. Jaskier sat across from them, eating his food while they ate theirs.

It was silent for a long time, only the occasional sound that indicated life in the forest could be heard as they ate. The witcher’s eyes kept returning to Jaskier, watching him as he ate. And just as he had expected, it did not take long until the bard started to yawn. He rubbed his eyes, scrunching up his face. For a second it made him look like a child (a child Geralt knew very well) and instantly the witcher regretted his decision. 

“I’m tired”, the bard mumbled, the exhaustion sounded deep in his throat. Next to Geralt, Ciri stretched her tense limbs.

“Me too. I think we should sleep a little”, she suggested to which the poet could only hum in agreement. 

“I’ll take a watch”, Geralt said. There was no going back now from this plan. He needed to find out what the bard hid underneath that too innocent disguise. 

After the bard had fallen asleep, Geralt hesitated. The man did not look dangerous. He definitely looked like he could stand his ground, no doubt, but he didn’t look like he would go around killing people at will. The witcher took a deep breath. There was no way he could just forget about the strangeness that surrounded the bard, the way he always seemed to be where the chaos was. It could not be coincidental. And so, he carefully inched closer to the sleeping bard, not quite sure how well the berries could unleash their effects on him, whatever he actually was, if he was not human. The bard’s breathing was even and calm, and his hand that carried the ring laid across his chest. Ever so gently, Geralt grabbed the bard's hand, waiting a few heartbeats to make sure he would stay asleep. Luckily for Geralt there was no reaction. Throwing away his last inhibitions, he carefully slid the ring off Jaskier’s finger. A wave of uncontrolled raw chaos washed over him, so strong, so ancient and powerful that the world spun around him for a moment, vision dancing with dark spots. He blinked several times, getting used to this foreign sensation. Once his vision was clear again, he thought he was hallucinating. Geralt had suspected that the bard was anything but human. And now that it was revealed in front of him, he did not know what Jaskier actually was. All those beasts he had seen and yet this was new. 

Jaskier suddenly had horns. Only one, Geralt noticed, the other had been broken. Fangs peeked out from under his lips, and his ears were pointy. The witcher held the gold ring in his hand, unable to do anything but stare at the man in front of him. A heavy realization settled in his mind. Oh Melitele, how had he been this stupid?

Jaskier was not Jaskier. Jaskier was  _ Julian. _ Julian, the small child whose best friend was a damn basilisk. The child who had begged him not to kill the monster, who had asked him to be his first friend. Guilt twisted a painful knife in Geralt’s heart. He could not believe what he had done. They were supposed to be friends! Why had the bard not said anything?

Geralt did notice the bard opening his eyes, too lost in thought and still too overwhelmed by the wave of chaos, his attention was elsewhere. Jaskier’s larkspur eyes immediately caught the golden glow of his ring in the witcher’s hands. He felt so free, his heart was light, finally able to let go of the power that had been constrained within him. And yet, he could not be happy. His secret was out. Revealed to the witcher who would kill him. Because that’s what witcher’s did. They killed monsters, and he was one. He had heard it so often. 

In a fit of panic and despair he pulled the knife from its hidden place in his boots and brought the handle down hard on Geralt’s temples, silently thanking Melitele that the witcher had been too stunned to notice his surroundings, but also praying that he had only knocked Geralt out. 

Ciri stirred in her sleep and Jaskier ran.


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt makes a grave mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the drama begins, babey!!! next chapter is yennefer time :D!!!

Jaskier ran. He did not know where to, he just had to get away. Away from Geralt. The witcher had seen his true nature. Had seen that he was a beast, no, a monster. It was a witcher’s job to kill monsters, so in a way, Jaskier was surprised that he was still alive. Branches scratched his face and he was sure he could feel blood running down his cheeks but he could not stop. His soul was screaming in joy that he had finally lost that cursed glamour, but his mind was panicking. He was game now, free for everyone to see. And to kill.

His knees buckled at the realization and he fell to the floor. His heart was beating too fast, his breath was too shallow and he just did not have it in him anymore to run. There really was no point, was there? Where would he go? He should just remain here. Keep a low profile, but finally be  _ free _ . It took a moment for him to recognize that the laugh sounding throughout the forest was coming from him. Jaskier was free, truly free! The witcher had done it! He had freed the poet from his family, and now from the burden of being glamoured at all times. His heart leapt with joy, and he breathed in the fresh air. Jaskier let the forest welcome him. A smile was playing on his lips as he felt vines growing from his body. The roots of the trees around him welcomed him, and for the first time in his life Jaskier felt at peace. 

Geralt was sitting on the slightly wet ground, completely frozen. Was it confusion? Concern? All of those? He could not say, but he wished that Jaskier had not taken off so quickly. Quickly he glanced over to Ciri, hoping that she had not noticed the commotion he had caused. Luckily the girl was still asleep. Geralt let out a sigh. Somehow he had wished to examine the nature of Jaskier’s being further. Now all he had was the golden ring, and he was not sure if it had been worth it. Hopefully, Yennefer could make some sense of it. 

On the other side of the burned down fire, Ciri started to stir, slowly waking up. 

“Good morning, Ciri”, Geralt mumbled to her. Maybe he should at least try to keep this one promise he made to Jaskier. Taking care of Ciri seemed easy enough.

“Where’s Jaskier?”, she asked, confusion evident in her voice as he rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The witcher could only shrug.

“I don’t know”, he answered truthfully. “But I have his ring. We will visit a friend in Vengerberg and she will help us find him.” His answer seemed to satisfy the girl. She nodded her head, stood up and stretched with a content sigh. It was mostly silent in the forest, the last drops of rain were dripping from the leaves and some courageous birds were chirping their songs again.

“How far is Vengerbe rg?”, Ciri asked, approaching Geralt. The witcher stood up to his full height, looking at Jaskier’s empty bedroll. “I’m scared he’ll be hurt if we wait too long to find him.”

“A day’s journey, maybe”, he told her. “He will be fine, I’m sure. The bard is stronger than he looks.” Geralt was really trying his best to make Ciri feel welcome. He had never talked this much before. It was plainly unnecessary for a solitary witcher, but the girl loved company and she loved to talk just as much as Jaskier did. How did he end up with two companions that were so entirely different from him?

“In any case, we should leave soon”, Geralt decided and began to clean up their camp. Ciri came to his help immediately, her small hands effectively performing the tasks he assigned to her. It was a tired but content silence as they packed their stuff and got ready to leave.

  
Jaskier was walking through the forest. He had calmed down from his initial panic of being hunted and killed for sport. Reuniting with the wild had been good for him, it had reminded him of who he truly was. It reminded him of the power he possessed. Sure, he mused, as he walked along a small creek, he never learned how to control and use these powers, but instincts would surely kick in if need be. The wild would help him through the labyrinth the chaos inside him had created, he was sure of it as the forest floor was warm and secure beneath his feet. The creek rushed in sync with the blood in his body, the wind rose and fell with his breath, the grass grew with his hair and every creature, big or small, would listen to his voice. Finally, he had come home again. He had come home into the wild again. And not only was he at home here. Free. Connected to everything that lived, no. He  _ was _ the wild. The thought echoed in his head as he filled his lungs with fresh air and let himself fall into the creek with a smile on his face.


End file.
